


Fallen Angel

by originella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Draco is not a Death Eater, AU - Fred lives, AU - Half-Blood Prince, AU - No Battle of Hogwarts, AU - Order of the Phoenix, AU - Peter Pettigrew goes to Azkaban, AU - Remus lives, AU - Severus Snape lives, AU - Sirius Lives, AU - Tonks lives, Advanced Potion Making, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bottom Harry Potter, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Cursed necklace, Disregard Book 7, Disregard Deathly Hallows, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Hogsmeade, Horcruxes, Imperius, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, May/December Relationship, Mpreg, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Occlumency, Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations, Owls, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Pensieves, Potter-Snape family, Rimming, Room of Requirement, Sirius gets custody of Harry, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Top Severus Snape, Virgin Harry Potter, Wall Sex, lily and james are dead, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 135,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: Harry Potter finally understands why his potions professor, Severus Snape, seems to pretty much hate the ground he walks on, after Harry inadvertently gets into his Pensieve during an Occlumency lesson. Despite his attempts at apologizing, the older man doesn't seem to want to hear it. As time goes by, however, and their lessons are forced to resume again, Harry comes to terms with his attraction towards the older man, and Severus, although reluctant to do so, gives in to kissing the young man, and a relationship blooms between them. When times are shaken up because of various Death Eaters threatening to destroy life as they know it, both men are thrust into the center of it all, especially when Sirius Black, now Harry's guardian, catches wind of the relationship and puts an end to it by force. Will their love be strong enough to handle the war, their separation, and will it prove to be the power the Dark Lord knows not?
Relationships: Alicia Spinnet/Fred Weasley, Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Cho Chang/Michael Corner, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Seamus Finnigan, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Penelope Clearwater, Susan Bones/Dean Thomas, past Ginny Weasley/Michael Corner
Comments: 66
Kudos: 537





	1. Fall to Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VioletteShadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletteShadow/gifts).



_CRASH_.

Harry was thrown across the classroom as Professor Snape argued with him, and Harry felt his ears itching at the notion of the potions master referring to his father as a swine. Harry just couldn’t even attempt to wrap his head around the professor’s mannerisms—any of them. Almost since he had walked into that classroom for the first time, at the age of eleven, the older man had seemed to have it out for him. Nothing Harry could do seemed to change the man’s attitude, and although he tried his best, Malfoy would still throw random things not in the potions recipes into his cauldron, which gave Harry quite the reputation in class.

Harry fell into the seat on the other side of the classroom; he’d asked, begged, to be allowed to rest, due to the fact that he and the older man had been at the lesson for hours. It seemed useless, he mused to himself, as he rubbed his knees, which had faced the impact of falling into the chair head-on; there would be bruises later, he was sure of it. Thankfully, he could easily claim that he had gotten them on the Quidditch pitch, and no one would be any the wiser. As he lifted his head slowly then, after making an effort to turn around, he saw the potions master proceeding to lift his wand again, and, panicking, said the first word that came out of his mouth, while all the while struggling to his feet.

“ _Protego_!” he shouted, knowing that the Shield Charm was the only thing that could save him now. And then, much to his shock, the _Legilimens_ Spell reversed, and Harry was seeing directly into the mind of his most-loathed professor.

_He saw a young boy sitting in what appeared to be a cold, stone bedroom, which looked even worse than his makeshift bedroom at the Dursleys—hell, even Harry’s mattress was thicker than that! The memory swirled, and there was another, with the same young man, half-hidden in the shadows that the torches gave off in the corridors of Hogwarts, and the poor man had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his school shoe. Snickers could be heard, and as the man turned, Harry knew full well that it was Severus Snape himself. The memory swirled once again, and he saw Snape sitting beneath a tree on the grounds of the school, nose in a book, reading by the light the sun provided. There was a shout, causing the man to look up._

_“Snivellus!_ Expelliarmus _!” came a voice, and Harry’s heart immediately thundered in his breast at the sight of his own father advancing on Snape. There were three other young men behind him—Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew—with Sirius and Pettigrew laughing, and Remus looking uncomfortable with the entirety of the situation, a Gryffindor prefect badge shining on his school robes. “Who wants to see me take Snivellus’s trousers off?!” James Potter called, and Harry shook his head in shock as Sirius and Pettigrew cheered at the idea._

_“Dad...” Harry said automatically, but knew that he was powerless to stop his father’s actions, as they were rooted in the past._

_Snape, by this time, had risen to his feet, and was searching the tall grass around them for where his wand had landed. However, he was unable to do much of anything, and stared with shocked onyx eyes at what happened next. Harry felt something akin to extreme guilt settle within him as he watched what was happening._

_“_ Levicorpus _!” came James’s shout, and he systematically lifted Snape into the air, with Sirius and Pettigrew continuing to cheer their friends’ actions. James snickered childishly as his spell worked effortlessly, and flipped Snape around mid-air, before charming his trousers off._

_“Stop!” Harry screamed, unknowing what else to do. He ran up towards his father, intent upon shoving him away from the potions master, but merely went through the body, and toppled onto the grassy ground, as the shouts of encouragement from Sirius and Pettigrew slammed repeatedly into his ears, as well as his father’s laughter, and, as he raised his eyes upwards, saw that Remus did nothing, as Snape begged for them to stop._

_“James Potter!” came a shout then, and Harry turned his face then, seeing a beautiful young woman with an impressive mane of red hair, and shining green eyes, run onto the scene. “Let him down at once!”_

_James, to his credit, looked cowed, and immediately put the counter-jinx onto Snape, before summoning his trousers. “Sorry, Lils,” he said softly._

_“_ Don’t _you dare call me that!” Lily Evans shouted, her voice practically shaking as she stood in front of Snape, blocking him from view so that he could put his trousers back on. “How can you possibly act this way towards anyone?! You’re acting like you still belong in nappies!”_

_James flushed red at that, and lowered his eyes. “I don’t belong in nappies...” He muttered, clearly embarrassed by this._

_Snape stomped away from the scene then, and Lily moved to follow him, as they walked around the edge of the Forbidden Forest._

_“Severus,” Lily said softly, running after him._

_“Don’t.”_

_“But, Sev, I was really just trying to help you—”_

_“I didn’t ask for it,” Snape ground out._

_“Well, no you didn’t, but we’re supposed to be friends. Best friends,” Lily said, her voice shaking slightly then, as she attempted to keep up._

_“I said ‘no’!” Snape shouted then, rounding on Lily, his dark eyes filled with anger. “I never asked for help from a filthy Mudblood like you!”_

_Lily stumbled backwards then, shaking her head. “Sev, you... You don’t mean that...”_

_Snape blinked then and immediately shook his head. “Lily, I... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that, not at all. Please...”_

_“Stop it,” Lily said then, setting her jaw, all sadness filtering away from her tone and expression as she faced him then. “Go blather to your Death Eater friends. Maybe Lucius Malfoy can protect you now, because I certainly won’t stick my neck out for a blaggard like you ever again!” she yelled, before turning on her heel and leaving Snape behind in the woods._

“Enough!” came a shout then, tearing at Harry’s psyche as the memory dissolved, and Harry’s Shield Charm failed completely as he collapsed backwards into the chair again. “Enough...” Snape, once Harry’s vision had cleared, was coming towards him, and, as Harry got to his feet, he was immediately yanked into the man’s arms, the glare of death suddenly disappearing into one of extreme dislike as the man took him in. “Your lessons are at an end,” said the man, as soon as he could finally speak again.

“I didn’t...” Harry began, wanting to explain himself, desperately, to apologize, now that he finally understood why the man hated him so much.

“Get. Out,” said the man, unwinding his long fingers from Harry’s shirt, and shoved him away from him. He didn’t give Harry a final glance as the fifteen-year-old quickly stumbled around him, and did his best to leave the potions classroom quickly, without looking back, hating that nothing had been done to assist him when he was a teenager.

~*~

Harry sat with Ron on one side of the plush and comfortable train compartment, while Hermione and Ginny sat on the other, speaking softly to one another. There were plenty of snow flurries outside, and Harry wondered if they would be able to build a snowman. He’d stumbled out of the dungeons the night before, and no matter how many questions Ron and Hermione had asked him, he refused to tell them what had gone on the night before. He caught wind of snippets of Hermione and Ginny’s conversation, and seemed to think that they were discussing fifth-year Ravenclaw Michael Corner, who Ginny had been seeing for about a year, amid laughing at Crookshanks’s antics, who was sitting in a contented manner between the two young witches, and was being adored with lots of attention.

“Harry, mate,” Ron said, and Harry turned to look at Ron. “Just say the word, and Gin will ditch Michael and come running to you.”

“ _What_?!” Harry squawked.

“Well, it’s just you didn’t seem too impressed with your snog with Cho,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders in an awkward fashion.

“Cho and I decided that we’re better off as friends,” Harry replied. “Besides, she’s still grieving Cedric, and we both think it was too soon for her. Not that I minded; I don’t think that she and I would’ve worked out anyway.”

“She’s not leaving the DA, is she?” he asked. “Her spells could use some work. Didn’t you say that she hadn’t been able to stun anything before?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but don’t go spreading that around, Ron. It’s not very polite, or sportsmanlike, considering that she plays as Ravenclaw’s Seeker.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “So, anyhow, back to Ginny,” he said, and Harry had to fight not to grimace, due to the fact that Ginny was less than two feet away from them. “‘Mione will tell her to ditch Michael, and then the two of you can...”

“Thought you didn’t want your sister dating anyone, Ron,” Harry said with a smirk, and crossed his arms.

Ron sputtered for a moment, shaking his head. “You’re different—you’re my best mate,” Ron told him quickly. “Not like you’d do anything...”

“You’d be right,” Harry told him, and his friend’s eyes widened. “I see Gin like my sister. We talked about it, and she’s fine. In fact, I think she saw it as a relief.”

“Relief? She’s liked you since she was a kid...”

“You know as well as I do that she admired me since she was ten, Ron... Not to mention even more so after I ended up rescuing her from the chamber. She was grateful to me, she said so, during that game of Exploding Snap in the common room. when she let it slip that Percy was with Penelope Clearwater,” Harry said patiently. “She even told me that she thought she owed it to me to be my girlfriend. I told her she didn’t, of course,” he said to Ron’s darkening expression, “and said that we could stay good friends, and that I think of her as a sister, just like Hermione. She was really happy, and even if her relationship with Michael doesn’t last, both of us are off the hook, so to speak.”

Ron sighed. “Thanks, mate.”

Harry blinked. “For what?”

“For not taking advantage.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Despite what the Sorting Hat said, I clearly don’t belong in Slytherin,” he said with a laugh. “And besides, it’s nice having more than one friend that’s a girl.”

“Just a friend?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just that you seem to be getting closer to Luna,” Ron said with a shrug. “I dunno how someone is going to feel about that...”

“If you’re talking about Neville,” Hermione said, cutting into their conversation, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Worry? Who’s worrying?” Ron said, forcing a smile onto his face.

Ginny laughed at her brother. “No one should be worried, Ron. And besides, Luna’s told me that Neville asked her to go out with him weeks ago, right after DA started. They’re even dividing up their holiday time to spend it together.”

“So, they’re a couple?” Ron asked.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione responded, rolling their eyes.

“Nobody could mistake it, mate,” Harry told him, sitting smugly upon the bench seat beside Ron, and waited for his friend to look at him before he spoke again. “Neville was going for days at a time without mentioning plants, and talking about how pretty Luna’s eyes were, or how much he liked her hair.”

“Neville?!” Ron demanded, his eyes popping.

“Of course Neville,” Hermione said impatiently.

“He can be quite romantic when he wants to be,” Ginny put in. “And he is such a gentleman. He didn’t even mind when I wanted to dance with Michael at the Yule Ball last year.”

The four friends chattered happily throughout the remainder of the journey, and soon it was time to get off the train, due to their arrival at Kings Cross Station. Harry followed the rest of them, with Hermione and Ginny constantly cooing at Crookshanks, now in Hermione’s arms, and found he was relieved that he wouldn’t be going to the Dursleys for the holiday season, and the foursome met up with Fred and George on the platform, before heading through the brick wall and into the Muggle world. Harry smiled automatically at the sight of Mrs. Weasley standing there waiting for them, and she pulled them all into warm hugs before ushering them to the Apparition Point, located just outside the station and in a back alley.

“Come along, dears,” she said. “Your trunks have been seen to by Arthur. He’s already brought them to our destination.”

“Destination, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked. “We aren’t going to the Burrow?”

“Oh, no, Harry, not this time,” Mrs. Weasley replied with a bright smile. She said nothing else as they entered a rather thick crowd of people, and made their way across the floor and towards the main door of the place. Once outside, they promptly moved to the back alley and respectively vanished with a crack.

Harry’s jaw dropped when they revitalized on a familiar street in Islington, and they all promptly walked through the gate. He watched as Mrs. Weasley tapped the cobblestone ground with her boot, and the door for Number 12 Grimmauld Place appeared between numbers 11 and 13. He stepped forward when it was appropriate and they all moved inside, with Ron, Fred, and George immediately running upstairs to claim the “best” bedroom, and Hermione and Ginny rolling their eyes at the boys’ antics, while Crookshanks hopped from his mistress’s arms and proceeded to walk slowly up and down the hallway.

“Harry Potter.”

Harry looked up then, and saw Sirius standing there on the edge of the hallway. He was slightly reluctant to do so, but found himself running towards the man and hugging him. “Sirius!” he cried out as he launched himself into the man’s arms. Even though he had treated Snape in such a way—which he was determined to ask the man about—he found that he needed comfort above all things.

“We’ve got a lot of things planned for the holiday, Harry,” said Remus, from where he was standing in the kitchen doorway, directly behind Sirius.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, letting himself down from Sirius’s embrace, only to allow himself to hug Remus next. “Such as?”

“There’s the feast on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day,” Mrs. Weasley said, coming up behind them.

“Which means lots of cooking and shopping in preparation,” Sirius said with a smile. “Molly has considerately agreed to help Kreacher with the cooking.”

“How are things with Umbridge, Harry?” Remus wanted to know, guiding Harry into the kitchen, with Sirius, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny trailing behind.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders and taking the offered seat at the long, wooden table, with Hermione and Ginny sitting on either side of him. “Not too bad,” he said, watching as Crookshanks slipped into the room before the door shut, and proceeded to wrap himself in a systematic manner around Hermione and Ginny’s legs. “After that first detention, I’ve kept my head down,” he replied, running his hands on the words cut into the back of his hand via the madwoman’s blood quill, _I must not tell lies_ staring back up at him.

“We told him to tell Dumbledore,” Hermione put in softly, and Ginny nodded, having been involved in the conversation as well.

“He said he wouldn’t and that it wouldn’t do any good,” Ron stated, coming into the kitchen, and plunking himself down on Hermione’s other side.

“I don’t want to bother the man,” Harry said with a halfhearted shrug. “Besides, ever since my hearing at the ministry this summer...”

“What, Harry?” Sirius asked, lowering himself onto the chair at the head of the table, while Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulder, before waltzing into the kitchen beyond.

“Dumbledore’s been avoiding me,” Harry said softly. “I’ve wanted to ask him why, but he always seems not to walk to talk about it, much less talk to me.”

“He’s very busy as headmaster, Harry,” Remus told him patiently. “Perhaps it’s keeping Fudge off his back.”

“Does the minister still not believe that You-Know-Who is back?” Ginny asked, gently squeezing Harry’s arm for comfort, and Harry laid his head down onto her shoulder, permitting her to gently card her fingers through his hair.

Sirius shook his head at her. “I’m afraid not, Ginny. And, not to speak ill of anyone, but some of his staunch supporters are frequently whispering poisonous things into his ear...”

“If you’re talking about Percy,” said Fred, coming into the room and going to sit beside Remus on the other side of the table.

“We wouldn’t care,” George continued, and moved to sit next to his twin.

“Not like he ever comes home anyway,” they said together.

“Now, boys,” Mrs. Weasley said, strutting back into the room, a tea tray levitated before her, which boasted a pot of tea, mugs for everyone, a bowl of sugar, an abundance of spoons, a dish of honey, a platter of lemons, two creamers filled with milk and cream respectively, and a plate of various biscuits, “no matter what we may feel, I won’t have you speaking ill of your brother, no matter how he’s acting.”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Weasley, entering the kitchen then, just as his wife placed the tea tray in the center of the table, and crossed the room, kissing her on the cheek in greeting. “All of your trunks have been filed away in your respective bedrooms.”

“What kept you, love?” Mrs. Weasley asked her husband, leaning over the table slightly to charm the teapot to pour, and banished the various cups so that each person had one, and allowed the spoons, honey, lemons, creamers, and biscuit plates to float around, so that everyone could take what they liked.

“Fudge, it would seem, had need of a word,” Mr. Weasley said bitterly, sitting on the other side of the table, squeezing everyone’s shoulders as he walked by.

“About?” Harry asked, immediately concerned.

Mr. Weasley sighed. “He needed to check the contents of the trunks personally,” he said bitterly, and shook his head. “I’m afraid that he only did so when he became aware that one of the trunks belonged to you, Harry.”

“Bastard,” Sirius muttered, and was rewarded with a smack upon his shoulder, delivered by Mrs. Weasley, before shoving a biscuit into his mouth.

“I happen to agree with that assessment, in all honesty,” Remus put in, stirring some honey into his tea, before adorning the side of his mug with a wedge of lemon. “However, we must not speak ill about those who are in charge, no matter how much we may disagree with them, for the walls of old houses have ears.”

“Doesn’t give him the right to constantly interfere with innocent children,” Sirius put in, and shook his head.

“I’ve never been a child,” Harry said quietly, staring into his tea.

“Regardless, I’m afraid he has every right, especially now that the ministry is interfering with the employees at Hogwarts,” Mr. Weasley responded, his tone grave. “If you ask me, they never should have hired that wretched woman...”

Harry pushed himself up from the table; he’d barely sipped at his tea, and had only nibbled about a quarter of the biscuit he had taken from the proffered plate. “I’m going to see Witherwings,” he told everyone softly, before leaving the kitchen, and made his way down the corridor, and up the darkened staircase.

Harry mused that the residence of the Black family must’ve been grand at one time but, due to the death of Sirius’s younger brother Regulus and Sirius’s rejection of Pureblood supremacy, as well as his family’s disowning of him, it had fallen drastically into disrepair. It was an open secret that the aged house-elf, Kreacher, openly favored Regulus, as well as the deceased matriarch of the family, Walburga, who systematically began to shout about Harry’s Half-Blood status as he continued up the staircase.

“Sod off!” he shouted at her, which silenced her for a moment.

Harry finally made it to the attic, where Witherwings, formerly known as Buckbeak, was kept, and he promptly bowed to the impressive creature. The yellow eyes took him in then, and, although he didn’t rise, he did lower his head towards Harry. Smiling to himself, he stepped forward, and stroked the pale blue feathers of the beast, who bowed his head further at the display of affection.

“Would you like to meet Hedwig while I’m here?” Harry asked, and the yellow eyes instantly looked up at Harry, questioning. “She’s my snowy owl, my familiar,” he explained, and the creature blinked his eyes. “No, she’s quite alive, and would peck you unmercilessly if you tried eating her,” he joked, causing the hippogriff to chortle in a sound reminiscent of laughter.

“Harry?”

Harry turned around at the sound of the voice, and saw Sirius standing there. “Hey,” he said, and seemed to hunch his shoulders immediately. “Did you follow me?”

“Well, wasn’t difficult to do so, considering that you announced to the entire kitchen where it was you were going,” Sirius replied. “You all right?”

Harry shook his head at the man. “No, Sirius. I’m not all right.”

“Very well,” Sirius said, sitting in one of the chairs close to the door. “Talk to me about what’s bothering you, then.”

Harry sighed, but ultimately crossed the room and sat next to his godfather. “You know how Dumbledore ordered Professor Snape to give me Occlumency lessons, after all the nightmares I had about You-Know-Who?”

Sirius gave a stiff nod. “How could I forget? I was against it from the start. However, given your descriptions of the nightmares you suffered in the wake of the tournament, and Dumbledore saying that Snape was the best one for the job, I had to put my selfishness aside for your well-being, which I’ll always do, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “I know, Sirius...”

“Harry, did something happen during your lessons?” Sirius asked, and Harry pulled one of his legs upwards towards his chest. “It did, didn’t it?” he wanted to know, his voice steadily rising as his temper threatened to get the better of him. “Dear Merlin, I knew it. What did Snape do—?!”

“He didn’t do anything!” Harry suddenly shouted then, tears threatening to escape his eyes as he shot to his feet. “It’s what you all did to him!”

Sirius’s blue eyes widened at Harry’s words, shocked. “Harry, please explain to me what you’re referring to,” he replied, never raising his voice once.

“He... Snape refused to let me rest,” Harry said, his temper slowly ebbing and flowing then, and Sirius was not best pleased to hear that fact pass through Harry’s lips, and watched as his godson proceeded to pace around the attic space. “I asked him if we could rest, and he said, ‘The Dark Lord never rests, so you shouldn’t be afforded the same treatment, Potter’. I didn’t know what else to do, especially when he said bad things about Dad, and when I defended Dad, Snape threw me across the room. I was so lost, so lost, so I used the Shield Charm so that he couldn’t hurt me anymore, either with my memories or otherwise...”

“Harry?”

“I looked into his mind, his innermost thoughts, without permission,” Harry whispered, collapsing back into his chair, suddenly exhausted from his pacing. “I saw...”

“What, Harry? What did you see?”

Harry scoffed. “I saw you, Dad, Remus, and Wormtail _torturing_ Snape!” he cried out then, jabbing an accusatory finger into Sirius’s direction.

Sirius’s face boasted a shadow for a moment before he had the sense to lower his blue eyes. “Ah. You saw when James charmed his trousers off, did you?”

“Yes,” Harry said, flushing automatically at the memory, and found that he hated himself for admiring the professor’s amazing legs without permission.

“Harry, what you’ve got to understand here is that we were your age. We were kids, teenagers. So often young people pull pranks. Look at Fred and George—”

“ _Don’t_ even attempt to compare what Fred and George do to what you Marauders did!” Harry shouted, his temper back as he glared at his godfather. “The only person they prank on a regular basis is Filch, and that bastard deserves it—he wants to bring back the old punishments, he _told_ us that back in first-year!”

“I’ll admit we permitted ourselves to be blinded by hatred,” Sirius said softly. “However, it was James who was the ringleader, because of his love for your mother.”

Harry blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Snape and your mother, Lily, were best friends,” Sirius told Harry. “However, James was convinced that Snape was in love with your mother and, because of their friendship, would ultimately end up with him.”

“But she didn’t,” Harry snapped. “I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve enough people in my life telling me how much I resemble Dad.”

“It is true, you are James and Lily’s child, never doubt that,” Sirius assured him. “But you must know that, as young teenagers, we all didn’t know right from wrong...”

“I never would have even considered to do what you did,” Harry said thickly, shaking his head at Sirius. “No matter how much I may detest Draco Malfoy, I wouldn’t inflict something so damaging upon him that he would constantly think up ways to enact punishments on my future children. You, all of you, were wrong, and no matter how much time has gone by, you should apologize,” he said steadily, before leaving the room.

That night, Harry was surprised to have a very strange dream. It was Snape, staring at him with those onyx eyes of his, never leaving his gaze. However, within the dream, Snape’s eyes were not filled with hatred, but, seemed to be filled with something that Harry found he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

~*~

Although Sirius attempted to reach out to Harry for more conversation during the rest of the holidays, Harry was successful in evading him. He finally cracked and gave Ron, Hermione, and Ginny the short version, and they helped him in evading his godfather. Remus was no help to Harry’s case, however, and Harry was annoyed when he constantly informed him that he had been a mere bystander in all of the events. Harry was quick to inform the man that he could’ve done something, as he had been in a position of authority, but, by not saying anything, was just as guilty.

Harry, alongside his friends, was taken to Kings Cross Station in the first few days of January to return to Hogwarts for their second-term, and there were many things on his mind. The dreams hadn’t stopped during the remainder of the holidays; in fact, they were happening many nights out of the week. They always progressed, and now Snape in his dreams seemed to want to say something to Harry, but was constantly holding himself back. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had asked him more than once what was on his mind, but Harry refused to answer them this.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been in their compartment for half an hour, Ginny appeared with a bright smile on her face and took a seat next to Hermione. “Well, it’s over at last,” she informed them all.

Hermione smiled at her. “You’ve done it, then?”

“Done what?” Ron demanded, around a substantial mouthful of Chocolate Frogs.

Hermione clicked her tongue impatiently, intermittently stroking Crookshanks and peering into her new copy of _New Theory of Numerology_ , which Harry had bought her for Christmas. “Oh, honestly, Ronald,” she muttered.

“I’ve broken it off with Michael,” Ginny said slowly.

Harry blinked. “Yeah? What happened?” he wanted to know.

Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. “Honestly? Luna told me that he was mooning after Cho, ever since we started the DA, but I didn’t believe her. I only just walked in on them snogging,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Harry. I hope you’re not too torn up.”

“Merlin, no,” Harry said, shaking his head; he never wanted to snog Cho again. “Like you and me, Cho and I decided that we’re better off as friends. I’m more sorry for you.”

“Don’t be,” Ginny told them, smiling slowly with glee. “I may have moved on sooner than Michael did, given our argument before the holidays began.”

“You argued before the holidays?” Ron demanded. “Why was I not told?!”

Ginny made a face at her brother, not particularly wanting to see the half-chewed remnants of Chocolate Frog in his mouth. “Because I’m under no obligation to inform you?”

“She’s right,” Harry said, and Ron glared at him.

“So, you’ve moved on,” Hermione said, appearing as if she had reached the end of a chapter, before placing a mark into her book and returning it to her bag. “Well, tell us, if you want. Who have you moved onto?”

The compartment door opened then, and a repentant Draco Malfoy stood there for a moment, before his eyes turned to Ginny. Ginny, meanwhile, launched to her feet then, crossing towards the door, and promptly pulled the fifth-year Slytherin inside, whereupon she snogged him for all of her friends to see. Harry could practically feel Ron shaking with rage from beside him, especially when Malfoy wrapped his arms around Ginny’s waist, pulling her closer, so that she was positioned lengthwise against him.

“Thought you’d never get here,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he replied, pressing his forehead to hers. “Had to have it out with Pansy, telling her that she and I would never be a couple, and that us going to the Yule Ball last year wasn’t a precursor for anything. I’m yours,” he said simply.

“Like hell!” Ron shouted, launching to his feet and separating them immediately. “Stay away from my sister, ferret!”

“Ron!” Ginny yelled, knocking him back without hesitation, and moving to shield Malfoy, her brown eyes filled with anger. “That’s my boyfriend you’re speaking to!”

Malfoy reached down and squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Gin, it’s all right,” he said gently to her, before looking up at Ron. “Look, I know that an apology, more like many of them, is due here,” he said, his voice kind. “I’m sorry, Ron, about everything I did, said, or implied about you that was untrue, for it was malicious and childish, and it won’t happen again. Hermione,” he said, and Hermione was shocked at his use of his first name, “as you are counted as my girlfriend’s best friend, I must offer up my sincerest apologies. Not just for your friendship, but because all I’ve said to you the past four and a half years has been deplorable. I’m sorry.” He turned, lastly, to Harry, who was amazed at the humility of the Slytherin Pureblood. “And, Harry,” he said, “I’m sorry about all the cracks about your parents not being around anymore, me calling you Scarhead, and my bullying treatment of you. You may have had only fifteen months with your parents, but, I assure you, they were far better than the nearly sixteen years I’ve had with my family.”

“Thanks, Draco,” Harry said, putting out his hand. “Truce.”

Draco stepped forward then, and shook Harry’s hand. “Truce.”

“I love Ginny like she’s my sister, and I want her to be happy with whoever she chooses. You appear to make her happy, so I wish the two of you luck,” Harry said quietly.

“And if you’re the bloke who’s been writing Ginny love poems, and giving her those thoughtful little gifts,” Hermione said, rising to her feet, “then I suppose I can offer you a truce as well, Draco, as long as you never say anything demeaning about my Blood Status, or anyone else’s, ever again.”

Draco nodded. “Of course,” he said, and shook Hermione’s hand.

Ron grumbled, but it was cut off, especially when both Hermione and Ginny elbowed him in the ribs, and he tripped forward, after Harry shoved him. “Oi! Fine, fine,” he said, rolling his eyes, and offered his hand to Draco slowly. “Fine. Truce.”

“Thank you, Ron,” Draco said, and took Ginny’s hand again.

“Now, then, now that that’s settled,” Ginny said, pulling Draco down so that he was sitting beside her, pulling out a pack of Ice Mice, “I got you your favorite.”

Draco slowly smiled at Ginny. “Thank you,” he said, opening his mouth, permitting his girlfriend to feed him the sweet.

~*~

The first week back at Hogwarts was all right for Harry, and he truly seemed to be settling into the second-term of his fifth-year with a fair amount of ease. There was no improvement with Snape, however, not that Harry expected one, given the aftermath of their final Occlumency lesson last term. However, although he hadn’t expected his apology letter, sent over the holidays, to make a splash, he had hoped that the professor would have acknowledged it.

No such luck.

In fact, Snape seemed to be delighting all the more in torturing Harry during potions class, to the point where Harry was considering failing his OWL on purpose, giving up his dream of being an Auror for good, all on the first day. As the day went by, Dumbledore continued to ignore him, and Harry felt as if he didn’t have many allies. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were given, and Draco had proved to continue to be on his best behavior as the first week of term went on. Ron and Neville, for their part, were still skeptical, but Harry and Hermione urged him to give Draco a chance, alongside Luna, for Ginny truly seemed happier than she did in quite a long time.

On the first Tuesday of second-term, which happened to be their second day back in classes, Harry cautiously stepped into the potions classroom. They had double-potions that day, and Ron and Hermione had begun working together. Harry’s potions had gotten better, for, after calling a truce with Draco, the pair of them had partnered up, and Harry no longer had rogue ingredients in his concoctions at the end of class time.

“Let’s hope it’s something halfway decent today,” Draco muttered, sitting beside Harry at their shared desk.

“Something decent?” Harry asked.

Draco blinked, and immediately shook his head. “Sorry. You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” he pressed.

“It’s Professor Snape’s birthday today,” Draco whispered back, and Harry promptly raised his eyebrows at the declaration.

Almost immediately after Draco’s sudden announcement, the door to the potions classroom came crashing open, and Professor Snape came into the classroom. The door slammed behind him, and his black robes plumed out behind him. Harry noticed, for the first time from an admiring standpoint, how much his close-fitting black trousers complimented the potions master’s long, elegant legs, and immediately flushed upon coming to that conclusion, knowing that no good could possibly come of it.

Finally, however, his Gryffindor courage won out, and he slowly raised his eyes to the man, who was writing instructions on the board with his wand. The man didn’t even need to look, and Harry wondered if he would spend his hours before class time dictating potion instructions to his wand in that velvet-like voice of his, and wondered if one could do such a thing. When his green eyes met the onyx ones, however, something thundered from inside him then, as the man’s eyes locked with his.

There seemed to be something that passed between them then, and Harry hoped to Merlin that the man couldn’t see into his innermost thoughts, and get access to his dreams, which he kept stored away deep in his mind, not wanting anyone to know about them. It wasn’t because he was ashamed, that wasn’t it, nor was it because he had yet to identify these feelings and share them with his friends. No, it was mainly that because the perceived object of his affections could potentially use his thoughts against him, before ultimately rejecting him. No, there was no way in Merlin that someone as complex, handsome, dark, or misunderstood as Professor Severus Snape could ever condescend to look at someone as lowly in comparison as Harry James Potter. That’s what he kept telling himself, however, he could not mistake the look in his potions professor’s eyes, when the man kept right on looking at him, as if he was some rare, or unknown, potions ingredient, one that he wanted to explore beyond anything. And although the thought intrigued Harry to no end, it also filled him with fear, for fear of the unknown, he came to realize, was a constant in his young life.


	2. Fallen Mighty

Harry was sitting with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room, in front of the massive fireplace, which had a roaring fire within. Draco had gone down to Hogsmeade on a secret mission, in order to get a table for two at Fantastic Fondue, the newest restaurant in the wizarding village, for a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner with Ginny. As Harry poured over his charms homework and Ginny her transfiguration essay, Harry found his mind slowly beginning to drift towards thoughts of a certain potions master, and how he had used him as a template for wanking since term had begun, when suddenly, Ron came barreling in through the portrait hole like a bat out of hell, a stricken look upon his face.

“Ron?” Ginny asked, watching as her brother flew into their midst, and all but threw himself down upon the couch beside Harry.

“Later, Gin,” Ron said quickly, turning to look at his best friend. “Mate, I need your help,” he said, and Harry, begrudgingly, put aside his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells – Grade 5_ by Miranda Goshawk and looking over at Ron.

“What is it?” he asked, crossing his arms, and attempting to ignore the smirk Ginny was giving him from over her copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ , which she had inherited from Fred and when he’d decided to leave Hogwarts, as Ron had gotten George’s copy.

“It’s ‘Mione,” Ron said, and Ginny’s eyes immediately snapped up.

“Please tell me that you didn’t have _another_ falling out over Ancient Runes!” she said, her textbook falling off her lap as she launched to her feet. “I know full well that you like using that class as a glorified naptime, Ronald Weasley, but it means so much to Hermione, and another falling out could be dire—”

“No, Gin, I swear, it wasn’t like that,” Ron said quickly, shooting Harry a glare as his best friend chuckled at his antics. “It’s not funny! I left her in the library looking over her copy of _Spellman’s Syllabary_ , and all seemed fine...”

“Well, then what’s the problem?” Harry asked, spreading his hands and staring at Ron. “Can’t help you if you don’t give us a little insight here, mate.”

“It’s not an extreme problem,” Ron muttered, scuffing his trainer against the carpeted floor of the common room.

“Well,” Ginny said, huffing ever so slightly as she put herself back into the chair she’d been occupying, “you should’ve told us that before you came charging in here like a herd of hippogriffs.” She continued tsk-ing to herself, picking up her textbook and scanning a section that would likely prove to be beneficial for her essay.

“I want to ask ‘Mione out,” Ron said then, and Harry’s eyes widened, while Ginny dropped her book a second time.

“What?!” Ginny demanded.

“Sorry for the blunt delivery,” Ron said, throwing up his hands, “but it’s true. I’ve wanted to ask her out since everything happened with Krum at the Yule Ball last Christmas, but I just didn’t know how to do it...”

“You do realize what day it is, don’t you, mate?” Harry asked.

Ron deflated visibly then. “Yeah, Valentine’s Day, which means it’ll be too late to get a table at Madam Puddifoot’s, and that’s exactly what ‘Mione deserves...”

Harry sighed testily for a moment, hating the reasoning behind his ability to do so, before whipping out his wand and waving it then, and recalled hanging out at the Burrow last summer with Ron and Hermione, and just laughing from within Ron’s bedroom, amid a fire they likely shouldn’t have conjured. “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he said, and Prongs immediately made himself known from the tip of Harry’s wand, swathed in his typical silver light. “Hey, Prongs,” he said, and the stag bowed to him, while Ginny reached out and petted him, much to the deer’s delight, and Ron sat there, wide-eyed. “Please deliver a message to Madam Puddifoot for me,” he said, and the deer bowed a second time. “Good afternoon, Madam Puddifoot, this is Harry Potter. If it isn’t too much trouble, I would like to make a reservation on behalf of my two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, for sometime this afternoon, if it isn’t objectionable to you, and if the teashop can accommodate them. I await your reply.”

Prongs bowed a third and final time before he turned and ran through the wall with the portrait opening, his hooves being heard on the corridor floors as he left the castle.

“Harry, mate, you didn’t have to...”

“Yes, I did, Ron,” Harry said firmly, and smiled at him. “You and ‘Mione have been dancing around each other for far too long. If Madam Puddifoot’s is booked, we’ll contact Madam Rosmerta, and I’m sure she can put something together for you.”

It wasn’t long before a vole Patronus arrived, scurrying through the wall of the portrait and hopping up onto the arm of the couch, its nose twitching delightfully. “Good afternoon, Harry Potter,” came the subdued yet kind voice of Madam Puddifoot. “As it happens, I have space for one more party this afternoon, and I would be only too glad to accommodate Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Please let them know that their table for two will be ready promptly at three, and they’re set to be at the one by the window.” The vole disappeared then, and Harry turned to look at Ron.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well... I’ve got to get ready!” he shouted, hurrying to his feet. “Thanks, Harry!” he called as he ran upstairs, and inside the fifth-year boys’ dorm.

“Boys,” Ginny muttered, taking out her wand. “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” she said, her horse quickly coming out to play. “Hermione, Ron will be waiting for you in the center of Hogsmeade at two forty-five. I should think you’ll want to be ready before that,” she said, allowing a giggle to escape her lips while her horse whinnied and cantered away.

“You think it’ll work?” Harry asked.

Ginny smirked, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey, a Malfoy fell for a Weasley,” she said. “Who’s to say a Granger won’t?”

~*~

It was the talk of Gryffindor House by the following day that Ron and Hermione’s date had gone so well that they were now officially a couple. Harry and Ginny hid their smirks, knowing full well that Fred and George were going to call for bets any moment, had Ron not plucked up the courage to ask Hermione out. The twins were overjoyed for their youngest brother, of course, and Ginny casually told Harry that Molly would likely begin planning the wedding once Ron and Hermione each had turned seventeen.

The next several days of term went on swimmingly, although Harry couldn’t seem to shake that there was an underlying issue with Snape. The man seemed to be staring into his very soul during meals in the Great Hall, or in potions class, and Harry found he couldn’t figure it out. It would do no good to go to Ron or Hermione with the information, as they would believe he had it out for Snape, and they were too wrapped up in one another as it was. As for Draco, despite his close relationship with the fellow Slytherin, Harry didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up with him just yet, as their friendship was hardly on solid ground.

“Harry, you’ve got to eat something,” Hermione urged him, five days after he’d managed to get her and Ron together, making it a Thursday.

Harry, who had been shuffling his scrambled eggs around his plate, dropped his fork and helped himself to a piece of toast. “Sorry, ‘Mione. Lot on my mind,” he said quietly.

Hermione, gripping her copy of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot in one hand, while she spooned some hot porridge into her mouth with the other, regarded Harry with her striking brown eyes. “When is that ever not the case?” she asked.

Harry buttered his toast and shook his head. “I suppose it isn’t.”

“Hmmm,” Hermione uttered softly, summoning the pot of brown sugar and adding another spoonful to her breakfast. “What is on your mind, then?”

Harry sighed, shoulders deflating; no, he didn’t want to bring this up with anyone, especially Hermione, not yet. Although she was one of his best friends and he loved her dearly, he didn’t want to stress her out even more than usual, what with her rigorous study schedule she already had planned for the three of them in preparation for the OWL’s in a few months. “It’s nothing, ‘Mione,” he assured her. “Just wish that the Giant Squid would abduct and possibly drown Umbridge...”

“You said it, mate,” Ron said from across the table, the bite of sausage that he’d been chewing inadvertently slipping from out of his mouth and landing upon the table.

“Ugh,” Ginny said from beside him.

“Really, Ronald?” Hermione asked, shaking her head. “We’ve established the fact that I’m madly in love with you, but I really wish you would work on your eating habits.”

“Muh eatin’ ‘abits ur jus’ fine, ‘Mione,” Ron managed to get out from around his next bite of sausage, glaring across the table at his girlfriend.

“Mum’ll send you a Howler before the week is out if you keep that up,” Ginny told him. She raised her eyes across the Great Hall, spotting Draco, who had just finished his breakfast, and spooned the rest of her cheese omelet into her mouth. “Got to go,” she said, making a grab for her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore. “Girlfriend duty calls,” she went on, her voice breathless and her cheeks flushed, as she launched to her feet and scurried across the hall, whereupon she was caught up into Draco’s arms and snogged for all she was worth, before they left the hall together.

“That slick little git,” Ron muttered, this time having his mouth full of potatoes.

“Ronald!” Hermione squawked. “I do not care to see the partially-chewed contents of your breakfast, thank you!”

Harry finished his eggs in record time, and reminded himself that Professor Binns’ class didn’t start until eight that morning, and it was barely seven-thirty. “Let’s go to the room,” he said quietly, and Ron and Hermione immediately nodded.

“Hope the ferret didn’t claim it for himself and my sister,” Ron said quietly as they left the Great Hall together, and made their way up the stairs.

“No, Ginny mentioned they were going for a walk,” Hermione said, slipping her hand into Ron’s to calm him down.

“A walk?!” Ron demanded.

“Yes,” Hermione said tightly. “They were going to enjoy a romantic walk together before she had to go to Herbology, and he had History of Magic with us.”

Ron continued muttering under his breath about how no Weasley had ever married a Slytherin, and Harry automatically rolled his eyes, thinking that it was a bit soon for either Ginny or Draco to be considering marriage. When they reached the proper corridor, they stood before the blank stone wall, which soon became detailed with various patterned carvings, and the door soon appeared before them. Harry stepped through it first, with Ron and Hermione just behind him, and the door soon disappeared from view outside the hallway. Once they were inside, a replica of the Gryffindor common room greeted them, and Harry immediately plunked himself down onto a chair beside the fireplace, while Hermione sat delicately upon the couch, and Ron placed his head into her lap. Harry found himself smirking then as he took in the picture in front of him, wherein Hermione was tangling her fingers into Ron’s hair, creating the illusion that her pale fingers were occupied with red rings.

“You sound like you’re still not wholly on board with the whole Ginny and Draco thing,” he observed, taking in the scene in front of him.

Ron sighed, angling himself along Hermione’s legs so as he could meet Harry’s gaze. “No, I suppose I’m not, wholly on board with it, as you say,” he admitted.

“Ron, don’t be a prat,” Hermione scolded. “You know very well that Draco has attempted to make amends in more ways than one since term began.”

“Yeah, likely because he wants to get into my sister’s knickers,” he muttered.

“Oi!” Harry shouted.

“Ronald!” Hermione said.

“Wha?!” Ron demanded.

“Ginny knows what she’s doing,” Harry said, speaking firmly. “And please, no more of the knicker talk.”

Ron scoffed. “Fine.”

“Harry’s right, Ron,” Hermione said, resuming her previous petting, which seemed to calm Ron right down. “I think Ginny would let us know if there was a problem, don’t you?”

“I think she’d tell you, or Mum, if her relationship with Malfoy isn’t going well,” he said softly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“He spoils her, Ron,” Harry put in. “He’s always sending away for flowers for her—Camellias, her favorite—with little love notes or poems.”

“He even sends away for the Camellias she likes best—the pale pink ones with the darker pink stripes,” Hermione said. She hesitated for a moment, before affixing Ron with a look. “Do you even know what my favorite flowers are, Ron?”

“I gave you flowers at Madam Puddifoot’s,” Ron said quickly, sitting up.

“Yes, and they were lovely, but they were Angel’s-tears daffodils,” Hermione said, sighing a little then. “I’ve mentioned it more than once that my favorite flowers are orchids,” she said patiently. “The orchids I like best are marsh orchids, or Dactylorhiza,” she went on, never knowing when a good time for a lecture was.

“I’m afraid that Draco will give in to undo pressure and take the Dark Mark,” Harry said quickly, not one to care about plants.

Ron whipped around to face Harry then, his eyes widening with fear. “Blimey,” he whispered as he shook his head. “I never thought of that.”

“No?” Hermione asked. “So, you were just bashing Draco for no good reason?”

Ron made a face halfway in her direction before regarding Harry. “You don’t think Malfoy would actually do that, would you?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him asking for protection, and I know from the visions You-Know-Who sends me that the Death Eaters either meet at Malfoy Manor or at Riddle House. However, I haven’t seen Draco at any of the meetings, which could either mean that You-Know-Who doesn’t interact with him...”

“Or Draco’s not there in the first place,” Hermione put in, regarding the cover of her book. “I suppose I could ask Ginny about it...”

“Hermione, careful,” Ron said, turning around to look back at his girlfriend. “She can prove to be a bit sensitive when it comes to people who are important to her.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Merlin, Ronald, you make her sound like a porcelain doll. You need to stop babying her. I mean, please, she’s fourteen, hardly a child.”

“Still too young for Malfoy,” Ron said stoutly.

“Too young?!” Hermione demanded.

“He’s _fifteen_ , ‘Mione!”

“So?!” Hermione countered.

“That happens to be my sister,” Ron hissed.

“Ron, I’m sixteen,” Hermione said patiently to him, “and I know full well that you’re still fifteen until March, a full six-months after my birthday. How is it okay for you to see me and Ginny not to see Draco?”

“Because he’s fourteen months older than she is, and that means a lot more. Plus, he’s a guy, Hermione,” Ron said with disgust.

Hermione crossed her arms. “And what does that mean, Ronald?”

“Well, you know...”

“No, I don’t think I do know,” Hermione said, her voice deathly soft as she regarded her boyfriend for a moment. “Are you insinuating that, because of Draco’s supposed advanced age, that he has the capability of taking advantage of Ginny?”

Ron swallowed, and Harry sunk lower in his chair, not wanting to be a part of this conversation, and knowing that Ron was effectively digging himself into a deeper hole. “Well, no, but it’s different with us, because you’re a girl...”

“Oh, well spotted,” Hermione said darkly. “I hardly see what me being the supposed fairer sex has to do with any of this, for the record, Ronald.”

“Well, just that I know you wouldn’t do that...”

“Do what? Jump you at a moment’s notice?” she snapped. “Because I’m a girl, I’m supposed to be quiet and feminine all the time? Because if that’s what you wanted in a girlfriend, Ronald Weasley, you’ve picked the wrong one.”

“‘Mione!” Ron shouted, moving after her as she moved to leave the room. “That’s not it at all, I swear to Merlin...”

Hermione whipped around then, angry tears caught in her eyes. “What did you mean, then?” she said softly, her lower lip trembling.

“I just meant that I’m scared for Ginny,” Ron admitted, his shoulders slacking. “She’s never been this physical with anyone before, and I don’t want her to move too fast...”

Hermione worried her lower lip. “And, do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“No, Merlin, no,” Ron said quickly. “I think every relationship moves at its own pace, and I know that Ginny and Malfoy’s relationship isn’t any of my business. However, it is a bit daunting to see them snogging every day...”

Hermione sighed. “It’s difficult for me to understand, because it’s only been me, Mum, and Dad for as long as I can remember,” she said, hunching her shoulders slightly. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to being a part of a larger family.”

Ron blinked. “What are you saying?”

Hermione smiled slowly then. “I know it’s only been a few days, Ron, but I honestly can’t see myself with anyone else.”

Ron gasped. “Hermione, are you...?”

“I love you, Ronald Bilius Weasley,” she said softly. “I have done for a while now. I suppose I didn’t have the complete courage to say it beforehand, because I thought that you wouldn’t want me after I was involved with Viktor.”

“I finally won something that someone else attempted to have,” Ron said, and when Hermione raised her eyebrows in a mock-scolding manner, he promptly leaned in and kissed her. “I love you, too, Hermione Jean Granger,” he whispered back.

Harry sighed, leaning back into his chair, knowing that things were on the road to complete change, now that his two best friends had found one another at last, and even though he knew it was unlikely he would ever have the one person—the one man—he truly wanted, it gave him hope for some kind of future, now that Ron and Hermione were together.

~*~

Harry made his way into the Great Hall two days later for dinner, mind still on Professor Snape, and immediately slipped into a vacant seat at the Gryffindor table right beside Ron. Ron, meanwhile, was staring in a rather love-sick manner at Hermione, while Hermione playfully rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and would divide her time between that, eating some beef and barley soup, and looking over her Ancient Runes textbook. Harry was thankful that he hadn’t done particularly well in the subject the year before, meaning that he was not required to take the class anymore.

As Harry ate roast and boiled potatoes, and Ron fed himself miniature turkey legs beside him, it was quite a shock to Harry when Hedwig swooped down from the passage from the owlery and into the Great Hall. Her great white wings managed to do their intricate dance and evade the flames of the floating candles as she swooped downwards, and gracefully landed beside Harry’s goblet of pumpkin juice. Perplexed, Harry painstakingly untied the letter from her leg, before he fed her bits of roast from his fingers.

“What brings you here at this late hour, girl?” he asked her softly, and Hedwig cooed beside him, before extending her neck for more roast. Harry chuckled at her antics and fed her some more, before she pecked him indulgently upon the fingers and swooped off. Smiling to himself, Harry casted a Cleaning Charm upon his hands and moved to open the letter.

_Harry—_

_I would very much appreciate it if you came to my office after dinner. The password is Toffee Éclairs._

_Signed,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

“Everything all right, mate?” Ron asked with his mouth full.

Hermione glared across the table at him for his ill manners before she turned and regarded Harry for a moment. “Yes, Harry. We’re so used to seeing Hedwig during breakfast. Is everything going all right? Is it Snuffles?”

“No,” Harry told her, shaking his head as he pocketed the letter quickly, not wanting it to potentially get into the wrong hands. “Just Dumbledore.”

“What’s going on, then?” Ron wanted to know, ignoring Hermione’s glares.

“Wants to see me after dinner,” Harry replied nonchalantly, moving to pick up his knife and fork again to resume eating.

“Did he want us to come with you, Harry?” Hermione queried.

Harry shook his head. “If he did, he didn’t say so,” he said quietly. “I think it means that he just wants me to meet with him tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “I do hope so. He’s been awfully quiet since he testified on your behalf in front of the Wizengamot last summer,” she observed. “I hope this means that he opens up the means of communication again.”

Harry sighed, shoulders deflating automatically, as he remembered what had gone on after his trial, where he had leapt to his feet at once, once the charges had been cleared. He ran across the seating area, where Dumbledore was passing by, and had called out for him. However, he had to watch with a heavy heart as the man with the snow-white beard left the wizarding equivalent of a courtroom, making no moves to speak with him.

Harry did his best to keep up with Ron’s conversation about Quidditch as dinner went on, and he forced a smile onto his face, even though he was slightly distracted by a certain dark wizard seated beside the headmaster at the head table. He and Ron were both on the team that year, with Harry being Seeker, and Ron Keeper, now that Angelina Johnson had taken over for former Captain, Oliver Wood, who had graduated the year before. Ron was determined that they would win against Hufflepuff in their next game, and Harry found that the game, while still entertaining, did not hold the same values within him as it had beforehand, and he wondered if he should keep playing if he felt that way.

Once dinner concluded, Harry lifted his hand in temporary farewell to Ron and Hermione, who were returning to the common room to study together. He walked up the staircase until he reached the entrance of the Headmaster’s Office, and stood before the gargoyle. “Toffee Éclairs,” he said quickly, and the gargoyle promptly jumped to the side, permitting Harry to leap upon the revolving staircase, which he did, and was immediately transported up towards the entrance of the office. Just as he was about to open the door, however, he heard a conversation going on inside, so he automatically hesitated.

“Albus, you must not ask this of me,” came the familiar drawl of Snape from behind the great wooden door.

“Now, Severus, you know entirely well that...”

“No, _you_ must know entirely well, old man, that the little brat has invaded my privacy!” snapped the potions master.

“And what would you have him do, Severus?” Dumbledore replied calmly. “He merely wants to understand why you harbor such feelings of hatred towards him, and have made no move to clear up, for the past four years. Can you not see why invading your privacy may have been seen as a last resort on his part?”

“That is typical of you, Albus,” Snape replied, his voice filled with acid. “Defending the lion when it was the snake who was wronged.”

“Now, now, you know entirely well that he cannot be blamed for the actions of others, although you seem to want to hold him accountable,” Dumbledore told him, his voice level. “Why can you not simply speak to him on the matter? Is it really so difficult to have a civil conversation with him without throwing him about or screaming him out of the dungeons?”

“I won’t have him near me more than absolutely necessary!” Snape shouted. “One to two hours per day is all I can handle! Per his halfway-decent grades the past four years, he is obligated to remain in my class, no matter how much the dislike is mutual.”

“Hatred, more like,” Dumbledore observed. “Why must you hate him, Severus? Other than this minor invasion of your privacy—which really seemed to be his only line of defense, in that moment, and was more than likely an accident—you treat him as if he is the worst thing to have ever walked into your life.”

“Perhaps he is, Albus,” Snape replied, his tone clipped.

“Well, let us ask him, shall we?” Dumbledore asked, and suddenly raised his voice slightly. “Oh, dear Harry, if you’re through merely standing at the door listening, please, do come in and join us, if you would.”

Harry swallowed the lump rising with haste in his throat and pushed the door open, doing his best not to stumble over the threshold. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

Snape narrowed his eyes at him as he approached, and Harry could physically feel the hatred burning into his very skin. “You admit that you were listening, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to Snape’s, whose brows lifted a fraction of the defiance that lurked within. “I admit it, sir, and readily, only to confirm that the headmaster’s assumptions of my actions are indeed correct.”

“Yes, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Sir,” Harry said quickly, turning towards the headmaster, “I want to impress upon you that I had no intentions of looking into Professor Snape’s mind that night.”

“A likely story,” Snape sneered.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes snapping to the potions professor, “permit Harry to speak before you attempt to complete the tale for him.” He turned back to Harry at once, before giving him a nod. “Go ahead, Harry.”

“I didn’t want to look into your mind, sir,” Harry said softly.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear it.” He visibly calmed himself down then, before he turned and regarded the headmaster. “Even though I dislike this predicament very much, I see that it must be done, and it shall. Go over things with Potter, and I shall be ready forthwith. Good night, headmaster,” he said, not even giving a final look at Harry, before he swept from the office, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Harry tried his best not to think of the man’s legs as the door slammed behind him, and turned back towards Dumbledore. “I didn’t want to look into Professor Snape’s mind—I just knew I needed to make Professor Snape stop attacking me,” he said softly. “He didn’t give me any instructional material on Occlumency, and just barked orders at me. He talked about how he had to penetrate my mind and about how I had to resist it, and that I had to prepare myself, before he invaded my mind. I had no idea what I was doing, and he didn’t lecture about it beforehand. Please, sir, I don’t know what to do, and I’m afraid that he expects too much of me,” he whispered.

The headmaster nodded, thinking over the fifteen-year-old’s words for a moment. “As it happens, we cannot allow your lessons with Professor Snape to end, no matter what he told you before the holidays began,” the man said softly. “As such, you will resume them at once, on Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, until such a time comes where you know enough about the subject to make do on your own.”

“Sir...”

“I know that the two of you don’t see eye-to-eye, Harry, but perhaps you can take into account all you saw in his mind,” Dumbledore said gently. “It could help you, now that you know that the two of you aren’t so different after all.”

Harry chewed on his lower lip, knowing that he didn’t have a choice, and had never had one, it seemed, since he was marked for death at fifteen-months-old. “Well, then I’ll go down to the dungeons on Monday, and figure something out,” he said quietly.

~*~

“You’re not doing it right!” Snape barked at him; it was Saturday, one week after Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore, and in the middle of their fourth lesson since resuming the practice that Harry so desperately needed. “Again! _Legilimens_!” he snapped.

“Stop it,” Harry begged, his knees practically raw from falling down on them repeatedly throughout the week. “Please...”

“Lazy and arrogant, just like your father, the swine,” Snape drawled, and Harry promptly narrowed his eyes at him.

“I know now that I’m _nothing_ like him, nothing!” Harry yelled back, not even caring if he was being disrespectful towards the man.

“Potter, I won’t have you bringing up the past—”

“Then you don’t do it either!” Harry burst out. “You hate me for being the offspring of your mortal enemy!” he said, shaking his head. “I understand why you hated him—hell, if the roles were reversed, I would hate him, too—but you can’t hate me more than I hate myself!”

Snape shifted slightly then, looking Harry over. “Potter, if this is a moment of self-pity, then I strongly advice that you seek comfort elsewhere.”

“I don’t want _comfort_ ,” Harry spat, as if it was the filthiest word known to humankind. “I want you to understand that I know what it’s like.”

“What, Potter? To which are you referring?”

“Living in a family without love, where you’re made to be a house-elf, and beaten if you don’t perform a task exactly right,” Harry said, periodically clenching his teeth in an attempt to keep from outright weeping. “Knowing that, had you not been born, it would’ve been easier for your parents to go into hiding, and that they probably would be alive today. Knowing that, with every day that passes, it’s a miracle that you’re somehow still alive. And, despite everything, finding that you’re falling for someone who could never look at you like you are the worst person to have walked into their life!”

Snape’s eyes widened then. “What are you...?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Harry said desperately, as he stumbled towards the man on shaking legs, his lower lip quivering, “all I know is, I can’t get you out of my head.”

“But, Potter, you hate me...”

“No,” Harry whispered, clutching ahold of the man’s robes, as he looked up at him, and shook his head. “I don’t hate you, sir,” he whispered, and anchored his lips to his.

Snape’s lips opened immediately when Harry’s found his, and proceeded to taste the lips of the younger man, almost begging for entrance into the teen’s mouth. Harry promptly loosened the man’s robes and wrapped his arms around the potion master’s neck, allowing his lips to fall open and permit the man to taste him. His heart hammered in his chest then as their tongues met, and it seemed as if fiery explosions were going off in his head, and he found that it was better than Firewhiskey, or flying on his Firebolt, and that nothing before then, or after the fact, would ever compare to this moment, not for the rest of his life.

Snape snapped out of the revelation that Potter had feelings for him pretty quickly, and did his best to unhook the young man’s arms from around his neck. “Potter, you must understand the potential repercussions of all this if we are found out,” he whispered.

Harry blinked, attempting to step forward then. “So, you’re saying that you want something to happen between us?” he asked softly.

Snape shook his head. “No, Potter,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you misunderstand me.”

“Then explain it to me,” Harry said, his voice trembling.

“I’ll explain it,” Snape told him, locking his eyes to his then, onyx meeting emerald. “The short explanation is that you need to leave.”

Harry blinked, shaking his head. “Leave? What do you...?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between them, “cannot happen, Potter.”

Harry sighed, trembling then, and nodded his head. “Look, I... I get it,” he said, hating that his voice sounded as if he was choking back sobs. “Why would you want to be with the brat who got the love of your life killed?”

Snape blinked. “Potter, what are you...?”

“My mum,” Harry said, dashing the tears from his eyes. “Plain as day in your memories that you loved her. The best thing I could be is her replacement, or a form of sick revenge, out of your hatred for my father.”

“Potter, you don’t understand...”

“No, I understand plenty,” Harry declared, moving to leave the classroom, deliberately knocking his shoulder into Snape’s, before he stomped out of there, waiting until he left the dungeons entirely before he broke down into sobs. And then, he ran, his thoughts a muddled mess, as he came to the conclusion that nobody like Severus Snape would ever want him, because, in the end, the only people who did want him were after his fame and fortune, meaning that they wanted him for all the wrong reasons, as opposed to the right ones.


	3. Fall Through the Cracks

March dawned in the wake of Harry kissing Severus for the first time, and he found himself quickly turning into a shadow because of the rejection. Of course, he wasn’t completely surprised by the rejection itself. The man obviously hated him, and had been madly in love with his mother, so it wasn’t as if Harry had a chance either way. Plus, he was entirely used to rejection, and, those that didn’t reject him, died because of their association to him. It had quickly become common knowledge within the Wizarding World that, if you were close to Harry James Potter, your days, by default, were numbered.

Harry received a letter from Sirius in the interim, due to Severus’s avoidance of him, and making constant excuses of back potions needing to be brewed, and found himself turning it over and over in his hands. He was standing in the owlery, Hedwig on her roost, her amber eyes watching him as he stared down at the letter she’d brought him. He had already given her treats, and the pleased owl had flown up upon getting them, wanting to eat them as quickly as possible, lest the other owls get the wrong idea and think that they were up for grabs.

Harry casted a rudimentary Cleaning Charm against the wall of the owlery, so as he wouldn’t get any owl pellets on his latest Weasley sweater or jeans, and leaned against it. Fumbling with the letter for a moment, he finally broke the seal with the Black family crest upon it. He was unsure if it was to be good news or bad, so suffice it to say, ripping off the band-aid sooner rather than later had always proved beneficial.

_Harry—_

_I do hope that this letter finds you well. I had heard from Albus that you had resumed your lessons this term with Snape, and I have written to the headmaster, expressing that Snape had better go easier on you in the duration. You need challenge, Harry, and I do not dispute that. However, I am fully aware that Snape and kindness do not necessarily go hand in hand. Which is why, I firmly believe, that compromise would be prudent in this situation._

_In return for Snape not deliberately insulting you, or comparing you to your father, you, in turn, must strive to at least be civil. I know that given your history with Snape that it must be difficult to even consider civility with a positive frame of mind. However, perhaps something will give within that stubborn man you are, unfortunately, forced to learn from._

_I have cleared it with the headmaster that you, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, and the rest of the Weasleys may come to Grimmauld for the week you are off school for Easter. Remus and Tonks will be there for the week as well, and I know that they want me to tell you hello from both of them. I’d bet a good handful of Galleons that they’ve gotten closer during the past several months during various stakeouts, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Remus made Tonks an offer in the next year or two._

_Stay strong, pup. I’m entering into some private negotiations as we speak on behalf of the Order, and we can all hope that our respective nightmares will be over soon._

_Your godfather,_

_Sirius Black_

Harry sighed, folding up the letter and transfiguring a loose thread upon his Weasley sweater into a piece of parchment, and took his quill out of his pocket. Turning towards the clean portion of wall he’d made, he quickly began mulling over what to say to Sirius. There was so much to say, it seemed, and so little time to say it.

_Sirius—_

_Lessons with Professor Snape have slowed down considerably over the last few days, because he apparently has some back-orders of potions to make for the hospital wing. Apparently, the official potioneer for St. Mungo’s is ill, so they’ve called upon him to do some of their potion mixing as well. You know that potions and I have never been the best of friends, so I’m inclined to believe the potions professor when he says such things._

_The slowing down of lessons, thankfully, has given me more opportunities to study. Hermione has got us all on these annoying timetables in preparation for our OWLs. I know that they’re important, but combined with that and the group, it’s quite difficult. That, and keeping out of the pink toad’s hair, for we know full well she’s going to report back to the chocolate man, and, since they don’t believe that You-Know-Who is back, they’re broadcasting it to all of those unfortunate people stupid enough to listen._

_Another development since returning for second-term is that Ginny has thrown over Michael Corner in favor of Draco Malfoy. Now, I know it may appear as a surprise to you, but Draco has become that of a tentative friend, and seems to be rejecting the Dark. I cannot say for certain, but he seems to be loving and loyal to Ginny, and she’s happier than she’s been in quite a long time, romantic relationship wise._

_As for Ron and Hermione, they’ve finally stopped bickering for two moments to finally realize that they’re meant for one another. I may have used my name to get them a table at Madam Puddifoot’s for Valentines Day, and Hermione was charmed. However, they got into a fight shortly thereafter—apparently, Ron has a lot to brush up on when it comes to Hermione. She was actually upset that he didn’t know her favorite flower—can you imagine?_

_How about that—Remus and Tonks. I thought she had been making eyes at him during the Christmas holidays, as well as during the brief interlude that I was permitted to be at Grimmauld last summer. I never took Remus to be a romantic, but you and I can both agree that “reserved” is one adjective that describes him perfectly. I know that Tonks is your favorite cousin. How do you feel about your best friend and your cousin potentially making a life together?_

_We’re all supposed to seize life with both hands when it comes to war time, but I cannot say I know much about such things. I’ve hardly known a time when we’re not involved in a war of some kind or other. I tried to seize life recently, as it were, but I think I ended up making things worse. I won’t go into detail—not here, at the very least, and certainly not yet—but I have a feeling that things have theoretically gotten more complicated than ever. I cannot say for certain, as I’m not the only person directly involved with the situation at hand, but I find I am frightened of the result._

_Looking forward to spending the Easter holidays at Grimmauld._

_Your godson,_

_Harry Potter_

Harry clicked his tongue for Hedwig, who dutifully swooped down, waiting for Harry to transfigure the envelope Sirius had sent him into a fresh one, and scrawled out the name and address of where the letter needed to go. He sealed it up expertly, before giving it over to Hedwig’s offered beak, and followed her towards the window. He petted her for a moment before she flew off, disappearing into the white clouds which were suspended in the charcoal-gray sky.

A storm was on the horizon.

Harry pulled his sweater more closely around him and pocketed his wand, before making his way to the entrance of the owlery. As he moved to leave, however, he was suddenly slammed into an almighty sea of black and went tumbling backwards. Just before he hit the stone wall behind him, however, a pair of strong hands caught hold of him then, and, slowly, Harry raised his green eyes to a pair of onyx ones.

“Sir,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing immediately.

“Potter,” the man replied, and immediately let him go.

Harry swallowed, watching as the man selected a greater sooty owl, and proceeded to tie a shrunken package to its talon. “Sending a package, sir?” he asked.

The man regarded Harry rather scathingly. “To be sure,” he very nearly snapped, feeding the owl a treat before it took flight from the window. “What in Merlin’s name does it look like, Potter? Why else would I be here? Or am I to assume that you believe I use owl dung to give my hair its greasy appearance?”

Harry flushed all over again. “No... No, sir. That’s not it at all.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “And what brings you here, Potter?”

“Same as you, I suppose, sir,” Harry said, hating that he was flushed all over. “Correspondence of some kind.”

“Naturally,” the man allowed, and moved to leave.

“Sir, please, wait,” Harry begged, and managed to catch hold of the man’s arm, who readily stiffened in his grasp. “Please... I have to apologize.”

“Apologize, Potter? You?” Severus demanded, turning around then to regard him from his great height. “I hardly think you know the meaning of the word.”

Harry ignored the barb, despite the pain it caused, and attempted to take Sirius’s advice. “I wanted to apologize for putting hands on you, sir, as well as... K-kissing you,” he managed to get out, going red to his ears and lowering his eyes. “I had no right to do either, and I am so very sorry.”

The man sighed. “There’s something you have to understand.”

Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to his. “Yes?”

“I could potentially get sacked for your actions,” the man informed him firmly. “Looked at from another angle, people could assume that I was the one who acted inappropriately.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I suppose so, sir.”

“Secondly, it was a mistake,” the man said harshly, and Harry immediately went white, and almost instantly stumbled backwards.

“A... A mistake?” he whispered.

“What are you, Potter? Daft or deaf? Of _course_ it was a mistake!” came the reply, reminiscent of a whip snapping, and Harry shut his eyes, not wanting to think of Uncle Vernon’s methods of punishment, which he was quite positive Filch would enjoy.

“A mistake,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, as I said, Potter,” the man went on, and Harry’s eyes snapped open then, forcing his thoughts away from his uncle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said softly, knowing that he had to agree with the man.

“Furthermore,” Severus continued, his voice like acid, which did its best to scald at Harry, “it will never be discussed again, by either of us, for all time. Do you understand?”

Harry swallowed then, suddenly becoming aware of how rough his throat was. “I understand you perfectly, sir,” he assured him.

Severus gave him a quick nod. “Good, then. We are in agreement,” he said, his tone clipped as he turned in a billowing of black robes. “I have much brewing to do, so our lessons will not resume for another month, at least. Good day, Potter.”

Harry stumbled out of the owlery, trying not to slip on the stones, which were covered in some fresh, late-winter frost. He could see his breath as it puffed out of his lungs, his eyes attempting to fill with tears at the man’s words. And as he watched that man, the object of his affection, of his innermost thoughts, his deepest desire, he found that he was becoming as cold as the air around them, and, even though the thought frightened him, he believed it would do him some good to have some ice around his heart. After all, Severus had barked at him more than once to control his emotions. Perhaps having none at all was the right way to go about things.

~*~

Harry continued in the method of controlling his emotions for the next seventeen days, so much so that everyone noticed a clear difference. Still, he was coming off as polite and calm to the people that mattered—Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and newly Draco—so much so that Dean and Seamus even caught wind of it. As Harry left charms class just before lunch, he felt a hand upon his shoulder and, upon turning around, caught sight of Draco.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked.

Draco sighed. “Look, can we talk? Please,” he said after a moment, and Harry was shocked at the sincerity.

“Sure,” he said. “Talk.”

“In... In private,” Draco hedged, looking around, obviously counting on being heard talking to a Gryffindor, no matter what the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Harry told him. “Come on.”

They walked up several flights of stairs before arriving at the non-descript stone wall, and even Draco appeared perplexed at their destination. Harry tossed him a smile before concentrating fully, and the door carved itself from the stone, before making itself known for use. Stepping forward, Harry turned the handle, motioning for Draco to follow him, and the Slytherin fifth-year hastily moved to do so.

“Where are we?” the blond asked, looking around in awe.

“This is the Room of Requirement,” Harry explained. He looked around then, taking in the lovely fireplace, adorned with a green and silver banner, matching rug, and red plushy chairs, reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room. He crossed the room and took a seat, motioning for Draco to sit opposite him, and was pleased when he listened.

Draco lowered himself into the offered chair, carefully setting his bag upon the ground, and folded his hands in his lap. “I... I’m sorry. I don’t know where to begin.”

Harry inclined his head. “That’s common,” he allowed, nodding slowly. “Maybe begin at the beginning, so that it’ll all make sense to me.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Harry told him, feeling like a Muggle therapist.

Draco swallowed, obviously uncomfortable but, upon further examination, it was plain to see that the fifteen-year-old was scared. “I... I received a letter from my father over the past weekend, and it wasn’t too good,” he said softly.

Harry offered Draco a tentative smile. “Not to sound rude, Draco, but your father has always been blunt and to the point.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Draco said darkly, a shudder flowing through him then. “He... He made his intentions known about... About You-Know-Who,” he whispered.

Harry was immediately interested, due to the fact that all Death Eaters—and the children of them that he’d suspected since Riddle’s return—referred to him as “the Dark Lord”. Perhaps there was hope for Draco after all... “What specifically?” he asked.

“About my loyalty to him, and certain things I could do to prove my loyalty,” he said softly. “I mean, the main one was befriend you—insincerely of course—by getting into a relationship with Ginny. I didn’t even tell my family about it, because they see her entire family as Blood Traitors, and I don’t see eye-to-eye with them on anything anymore,” he admitted. “Anyhow, Father said that the next thing would be for me to go back to Wiltshire for Easter and...and...”

“Yeah, Draco? What?”

“...t-take the mark,” he stammered. “Father has humbly requested that I take that Dark Mark during the Easter holidays. Although, from him, of course, it is anything but humble, and Father never requests. He demands.”

Harry gave Draco a tentative nod. “I can’t tell you what to do here, Draco,” he told him, although his voice was kind.

Draco nodded back. “I know.” He hesitated for a moment. “I know,” he said again, this time for his own benefit.

“Why are you telling me this, then?”

Draco looked up at him then, and Harry felt his heart going out to him, as he was very clearly trembling in the chair. “I... I can’t lose Ginny,” he whispered, tears pricking at his silvery eyes as he regarded Harry. “I can’t lose her, Harry, I can’t. She means everything to me...”

Harry nodded. “It looks as if you have a decision to make.”

Draco swallowed. “Yeah...”

“Your family, their standing, and the loyalty of Riddle,” Harry said, and Draco looked slightly surprised at the use of the man’s Muggleborn surname, “or Ginny, the side of the Light, and lots of people willing to help you and be your friend.”

“Ginny,” Draco replied without hesitation, and straightened up considerably when he vocalized his decision. “I choose Ginny. I’ll always choose Ginny. I love her. I’m in love with her. As soon as we’re both out of here, I’m making her my wife, but I can’t have her if I take the mark and go on like this...”

“All right, then,” Harry said, getting to his feet. He put his bag onto his shoulder, and motioned for Draco to do the same, and the pair of them walked out of the Room of Requirement together and went back downstairs to the second floor, immediately turning onto Gargoyle Corridor and towards the headmaster’s office. “Toffee Éclairs,” Harry said clearly, and the gargoyle jumped out of the way for them both, and Harry took ahold of Draco’s arm and pulled him up the stairs with him.

The door came open immediately, and Dumbledore got to his feet behind his desk, looking a little shocked to see Harry and Draco coming into his office, and clearly not at-odds with one another for a change. “Ah, hello boys,” he said, beaming at the two of them. “I was about to indulge in a little lunch up here, let Minerva oversee lunch downstairs,” he explained. “Can I request a plate for each of you from the kitchens?”

“Yes, thank you,” Harry said, and turned to Draco.

Draco gave an unsteady nod. “Yes, headmaster. Thank you.”

Dumbledore nodded, motioning the both of them into the visitors’ chairs, and sat down back behind his own desk. “Dobby,” he said, and the elf popped into view.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has called for Dobby?” the elf squeaked. “Will Headmaster Dumbledore be wanting his lunch?”

“Yes. I would like the minced meat pasties today, along with roasted vegetables, and pumpkin juice, please, Dobby,” he said, and nodded over to Harry and Draco to order next.

“Great master Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby shrieked, lunging forward, and enveloping Harry’s legs in a warm and exuberant embrace. “How long it’s been!”

“Hi, there, Dobby. It’s good to see you,” Harry said, patting the elf’s head, recalling that the last time he saw the elf had been he’d pilfered Gillyweed on his behalf for the Triwizard Tournament the year before.

“What can Dobby be bringing great master Harry Potter sir for lunch?” he asked, wiggling his ears and looking adoringly up at him.

“Lancashire hot pot today, please, Dobby. With pumpkin juice,” he added quickly, knowing that it would likely make him thirsty, due to the fact that it was always served hot.

“Yes, great master Harry Potter, sir!” he cried out then, but, when his eyes fell upon Draco, his ears immediately lowered and he threw himself against Harry again, trembling this time from fear instead of excitement. “Great master Harry Potter, sir! Young Master Malfoy isn’t going to take Dobby away, is he?!” he wailed.

“Dobby,” Draco said gently before Harry or the headmaster could speak, and got up from his chair, kneeling before the frightened being, “I cannot speak for my parents, only for myself. But how the three of us behaved toward you when you were... Weren’t free was abominable,” he said softly, and Dobby looked up at him, still fearful. “I cannot change the past, but I can make up for it in the future,” he told the elf. “I offer you my sincerest apologies, a wizards’ apology, in the hopes that we can move past this, and grow to be friends.”

Dobby inched away from Harry and stepped towards Draco. “You would be friends with such a lowly little house-elf?” he squeaked, wiping his eyes.

“You are not lowly, Dobby,” Draco assured him, “and I apologize again for all the harsh words and treatment you were subjected to. I am so sorry...” Draco was cut off then when another wail passed through Dobby’s lips, and the little elf raced forward, throwing himself into Draco’s arms and appearing as if he wouldn’t let go.

“Dobby will bring great Master Draco some of those lovely little roast beef sandwiches he likes without crusts!” the house-elf crowed, practically bouncing up and down in his excitement. “With those crisps that you like, and lemon squash!” he declared, before cracking away.

“Well, now, my boys,” Dumbledore said, turning to regard the both of them again, “after that little bit of excitement, perhaps you could tell me what brought you here today?”

Harry noticed that Draco looked a bit unsure of himself, so he decided to break the ice with the headmaster on his behalf. “Draco received a letter from Mr. Malfoy over the weekend,” he told the man steadily.

Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow. “Indeed?” he asked, turning to regard Draco. “And what did your father have to say, Draco?”

Draco, white in the face, immediately bent down and retrieved something from within one of the flaps of his bag, and produced what Harry believed to be the letter. “He said this, sir,” he said quietly, handing over the letter to the headmaster.

Dumbledore took the letter promptly, and Harry marveled at how trusting the man appeared to be in the face of things. He removed the parchment from the envelope then and scanned the precise handwriting of Lucius Malfoy, and nodded to himself. “Yes. This is a shocking and devastating development indeed, I’m afraid...”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said quietly.

Dumbledore folded the letter and placed it upon his desk. “I take it you’re aware of the contents of the letter, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “I am, sir.”

Dumbledore appeared to want to speak further, but Dobby appeared with their lunches then, and scattered the plates accordingly, before popping out of sight. “I also take it that you’ve made a decision on the matter, Draco?”

Draco immediately nodded. “Yes, sir. I won’t do it,” he said, and Dumbledore gave him a satisfied nod. “I can’t do it. I’m in love with Ginny, and I won’t disappoint her. I want to be with her for as long as we’ve got.”

Dumbledore smiled slowly then. “Ah. Love. A truly powerful emotion indeed. Miss Weasley is a very lucky young woman to have someone like you, Draco, and she is a good match for you, I should think.”

Draco gave a short nod. “Thank you, sir.”

“I understand then that you are requesting protection?”

Draco’s mouth popped open then, considering for a moment, before he nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is what I’m asking you for, sir.”

“Well, then, it appears as if it would be unsafe for you to return to Wiltshire for Easter. I will make up something on your behalf, never fear,” the headmaster assured Draco. “As for the rest of it, I shall grant you protection, Draco, on one condition.”

“Yes, sir?” Draco asked.

“You must give me all the information you know,” Dumbledore told him. “Known Death Eaters, where meetings are held, what conversations you’ve heard, and the like. As I said, all the information you know, dear boy.”

Although clearly afraid of the new development, Draco nodded. “The price to pay shall be small, and the rewards shall be greater in the end,” he said softly.

“Wise words,” Dumbledore commended him.

“I don’t have to go back, though, do I?” he asked. “Father will be most displeased of my apparent refusal of this, and my ultimate self-exile from the family...”

“Something will be figured out, Draco,” Dumbledore assured him, “never fear.”

Draco sighed. “Thank Harry.”

Harry straightened up then. “Pardon?”

“Harry, if it weren’t for you, I couldn’t have done this,” Draco told him. “You’re the one who spoke to me without judgement, and brought me here...”

“It wasn’t me, Draco,” Harry told him, “it was you.”

Draco blinked. “Sorry?”

“You, and your love for Ginny,” Harry explained. “If it weren’t for your strong feelings for her, who is to say you would be getting out of the tangled web Riddle weaved at all?”

“It is unlikely that Draco would have done so, at this stage, at least,” Dumbledore put in with a sad smile. “Well, then, Draco, we will arrange a time in which you can give me the information about Riddle, and, in the meantime, I shall come up with ways to keep you out of the clutches of the Malfoy family.”

Draco smiled, clearly relieved. “Thank you, sir,” he replied.

~*~

Harry had received a note over that next weekend that Severus had completed the back orders for the potions on St. Mungo’s behalf and, therefore, their lessons could resume again. Harry headed down to the dungeons at the appointed hour on Monday evening, filled with something akin to trepidation, as he truly was unknowing as to what to expect. He knocked on the door at the correct time, and the potions master immediately let him inside.

“On time, Potter. Punctuality, it seems, is not beyond you.”

Harry gritted his teeth, but nevertheless, forced himself to remain calm. “I hope it is a quality that I can continue to have, sir,” he replied.

Severus regarded him for a moment, looking slightly unsure. “What? No barb for your most-loathed professor?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, doing his best to remain impassive. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. I came here to learn, not engage in banter.”

Severus smirked then, obviously not believing a word of it. “What, Potter? I highly doubt that you could manage to restrain yourself.”

“Think again, sir,” Harry told him. “I could go all night.”

Severus stared him down then, shaking his head. “Who talked to you?”

“Talked to me...? What do you mean, sir?” Harry asked, shaking his head in confusion as to the direct meaning behind Severus’s question.

“I merely meant that your overall attitude has changed, Potter,” Severus told him, his tone becoming clipped. “Take potions, for example. You have been performing far better ever since term began.”

“Of course I have, sir,” Harry replied neutrally. “I’m working with Draco now, and, therefore, he doesn’t throw things that don’t belong in the assigned potions into my cauldron.”

“He doesn’t throw things into your cauldron, Potter, because it is his cauldron as well, and he wants to get an Outstanding on any given assignment he can,” Severus corrected him.

Harry inclined his head. “I doubt that is his only motivation, sir. It is also because Draco and I are friends.”

Severus sneered. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter.”

“Are you quite through now, sir?” Harry asked. “These petty remarks are really becoming quite old, don’t you think?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “If I did not agree with you, I would take away ten points from Gryffindor for your attitude, Potter,” the man said, his tone clipped, as he likely strived to keep his temper with him. “Nevertheless, despite my agreement, it appears as if a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

Harry blinked, unaware that that expression even existed in the man’s vocabulary. “You’re thanking me, sir? For what?”

“For helping Draco, of course,” Severus replied impatiently, as if the answer was a clear and obvious one. “Your Gryffindor heroics clearly were used appropriately in this situation, and I am thankful for my godson to be kept away from those people.”

“But you’ve got the mark, sir,” Harry put in.

Severus nodded. “I may have the mark, Potter, but it is something I see every day, burned into my skin, and wish that I could take it back,” he told him. “I have many regrets, as I’m sure your little foray into my pensive pointed out, but I live with them. However, Draco is far too young to make such a life-altering decision, and although I was three years his senior when I took mine, I wish I had someone who looked out for me, and made me realize that it was not worth a moment of my time, and that I could have had a happier life, had I not taken it.”

“You can still have a happier life, sir,” Harry said softly.

Severus sighed, his lips forming into a bitter line. “Perhaps one day, when the war is over, and if I somehow survive until it is over, and then go on to live,” he said softly.

Harry shook his head wildly then, his heart thundering within his breast at the implication the man brought about with his pessimistic attitude. “Don’t say that!” he cried out, his voice filled with a series of tremors. “You can’t die in the war, sir! I mean, there are so many who need you...”

“Which is why I’m doing my duty to the Wizarding World, Potter,” Severus said, rolling his eyes with a sigh at Harry’s apparent maudlin melodrama. “I also owe you an apology.”

Harry shook his head—what in the name of Merlin was the world coming to? “An apology? For what, sir?”

“For my ill-treatment of you,” the man replied. “I should have realized that you yourself would have never deliberately gone into my pensieve. You just wanted to understand why I could hate a teenage boy so much. While I had wished to tell you on my own terms, if at all, what’s done is done, and it is in the past.”

“Sir?” Harry whispered.

“I apologize for my past ill-treatment of you, Potter,” Severus said, and lifted his wand, weighing it in his tapered fingers. “Now, are you ready for your Occlumency lesson?”

Harry sighed, shoulders deflating immediately. _May as well at this over with_ , he thought to himself before straightening up. “Ready, sir,” he replied.


	4. Fallen from my Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my dear friend LilaDiurne for being my Latin consultant!

Harry trudged down to the dungeons the following Monday with a certain lightness in his step that hadn’t been there for as long as he could remember. He may not be seen in Severus’s eyes the same way he saw the man, but he resolved to put it out of his mind. He was doing training for the upcoming war—not that they weren’t in a war now—and that had to be the main priority, with the rest of his education being a close second. So what if the object of his innermost desires didn’t want him back? He had dealt with rejection before, and it wasn’t as if this would be the last time he encountered it.

Harry gave Severus a neutral expression as he was let into the potions classroom, and made his way over to the customary location where the lessons were given. No cheeky lip or barbs that day, for Harry had truly taken Sirius’s advice to heart. By contrast, Severus had kept to his word, and had remained polite towards Harry. It was as if he preferred this attitude of his, which was decidedly unlike him, which hurt Harry, although he made no moves to voice his opinion to the man, for what good would that do, really?

“Have you prepared your mind, Potter?” the man asked.

Harry turned around then, his face a mask, a technique he had perfected from the potions master standing before him. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Prepare yourself,” Severus stated, lifting his wand.

Harry stood as a soldier would before the man—back straight, feet planted, legs not wobbly—and waited for the spell which would potentially invade his mind.

“ _Legilimens_!” Severus said, and Harry immediately felt the attempt at invasion.

Harry concentrated as best he could, recalling a recent conversation he had had with Hermione, about literally imagining blocks—or walls—in his mind, which had the capability of surrounding the memories which he didn’t want Severus to see. Of course, now that he had all these complex feelings for the man, he would’ve rathered him not see them at all. He planted the walls around the memories, locking them away like a steel trap, and felt as if Severus was immediately retreating from his mind.

“Potter...”

Harry slowly opened his eyes then, worrying that the man would scold him. “Sir?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Potter, it seems as if these lessons aren’t a lost cause after all.”

Harry’s eyes widened then. “What is it you’re saying?”

Severus looked slightly annoyed then that Harry had neglected to address him properly, but decided to ignore it. “You’ve resisted my attempt to penetrate your mind.”

Harry shook his head. “I... I don’t understand...”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” the man asked with a sneer, presumably out of habit, and almost immediately shook his head. “I apologize, Potter. That was rude.”

Harry gave a stiff nod. “That’s all right.”

“Anyhow, it appears as if my attempted penetration of your mind was unsuccessful.”

Harry’s jaw dropped then, gasps forming and falling from his lips. “I... I really was successful in resisting your attempts to penetrate my mind?” he asked.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Severus said.

Harry found himself grinning at the man. “There is no need to call me ‘sir’, professor,” he said, and the man before him knew him to be joking.

“Yes, well,” he said, allowing the cheek to slide, “your assumption is indeed correct. You resisted my allowance into your mind.” He pondered the situation for a moment before he allowed himself to speak again. “If I may, how did you do it?”

“I... Hermione suggested that I imagine walls from within my mind, closing and locking like steel traps around the particularly sensitive memories—or, in this case, all of them,” he said, hoping that his clarification was enough.

“Smart girl, Miss Granger.”

Harry nodded. “She is. I’m lucky to have her.”

“You two seem to be quite close.”

Harry felt he could detect something from behind the tone, but found he didn’t want to attempt to analyze it further. “She is my best friend, and I consider her my sister.”

“And Miss Weasley?”

“You know very well she is very committed to and in love with Draco,” Harry said, quickly managing to grow impatient.

“And Miss Lovegood?”

“In love with Neville and quite happy with him,” Harry went on.

“Then, this only leaves Miss Chang,” Severus put in. “I noticed a memory of the pair of you kissing before the holidays last term.”

“Yes, we kissed,” Harry replied with a shrug. “She was upset about Cedric, since I was the last person with him, and all. She wanted to know once and for all what happened, so I told her about it, even though I hate talking about it, she really deserved to know. He was her boyfriend, and they loved each other...”

“But, you kissed...”

“I think she was grateful, if anything,” Harry said. “I mean, she was crying the entire time. Plus, I didn’t recognize the signs. Not as if I’d kissed anyone before that...”

“Surely there have been some witches that have caught your eye, Potter. And, if not witches, you must have seen some Muggle girls or women in Little Whinging.”

Harry shook his head, his forehead puckering with discomfort. “No, sir. And they wouldn’t, and no woman would. I’m gay,” he stated, crossing his arms.

“How can you possibly be wholly sure of such a thing?”

“It’s a matter of response, sir,” Harry stated plainly, waving his hand about. “Women—Muggle or witch—have never elicited that kind of response from me.”

“Miss Chang is quite pretty,” Severus put in.

Harry rolled his eyes at the rather obvious assessment. “Yes, of course she’s pretty,” he said impatiently, “anyone with eyes would readily come to that conclusion. However, it is a common misconception to believe finding someone attractive and being attracted to them are one in the same. That is not the case, and I’ve found many women attractive, but it doesn’t mean I want to tear their knickers off and hop into bed with them.”

Severus considered his train of thought for a moment. “Many girls and women in the Wizarding World would want you to do just that, Potter.”

“Why? Because it is expected of me, and considered to be the traditional thing to do?” Harry demanded with a scoff. “I may not even live to see the end of this war, sir.” He hesitated. “Part of this half-life I’ve been given is the fact that I’ve been pre-conditioned to accept rules laid out before me, of what I can and can’t do, who I can see and speak to, where I can go and were I can’t. And I’m tired of it, I’m so bloody tired of it! All I want, right now, is to take what I want with both hands and keep it!”

Severus blinked. “What’s stopping you?”

“What’s stopping—?!” Harry cut himself off then with a bitter laugh, his heart aching. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Snape, to act so blasé about all this...”

“What are you talking about, Potter?” the man demanded.

“I’m talking about the fact that I cannot merely take what I want and keep it!” Harry shouted at him, his voice wobbling slightly from emotion. “It wouldn’t matter!”

“Potter...”

“No!” Harry yelled. “I cannot have what I want, because what I want, who I want, would never look at me that way! He has made it abundantly clear...”

“Potter, don’t distress yourself...”

Harry peered up at him through a veil of tears, shaking his head. “You really haven’t got a clue, do you, of how deep these feelings of mine are?” he whispered.

“Potter?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Harry said firmly then, before crossing the classroom and closing the distance between them, and wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. “My name is Harry, and this is what I want so badly,” he declared, before anchoring his lips to the man’s.

“Potter,” Severus said softly, “I thought we’d discussed...”

Harry sighed then, barely having the opportunity to taste Severus before he let himself down. “I know, sir,” he said softly, suddenly proper and humble again. “I... You’re right.” He straightened himself up then, and scrubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Momentary lapse of judgment on my part, is all.” He gazed at the man through his mask once more. “It appears as if my lessons have been successful, so much so that I will not be needing them anymore. We need not prolong our mutual suffering, sir. Good night,” he said, and moved towards the door.

“Potter...”

“Don’t, it doesn’t matter,” Harry said, succeeding in keeping the emotions from his voice. “I mean, who was I kidding, right? You wanted my mum, after all,” he said, and moved to step through the door.

“Potter, it wasn’t like—”

“Please, don’t tell me what it was like or not like,” Harry replied, not bothering to turn back to look at the man. “I saw quite plainly what it was like, and we need not discuss it further,” he said, rather pointedly, before he walked through the door, leaving a very confused potions master behind.

~*~

It was a surprise when Draco came into the Gryffindor common room with Ginny the following Wednesday, especially when Ginny had forgotten about a studying session she had with Hermione in the library that night. Ron, meanwhile, was going to do flying around the pitch that evening, and was unavailable as well. Since Harry was plenty caught up on his assignments, he agreed to spend the evening with Draco.

“Is there something on your mind, Harry?” Draco asked tentatively, as the pair left the common room and went downstairs to the Great Hall for dinner.

Harry felt his shoulders hunching automatically at the inquiry. “Yes and no,” he replied, matching his pace to Draco’s as they reached the proper floor.

Draco cocked his head to one side, slightly resembling a high-class dog, although Harry would never tell the fifth-year Slytherin what kind. “Oh?” he asked, allowing Harry to step first into the Great Hall, before moving to join him at the Gryffindor table.

“Yes, there’s something on my mind,” Harry said shortly, knowing that he shouldn’t have been taking out the situation on Draco, but it was difficult not to do so.

Draco mulled over the statement for a moment, slipping beside Harry upon the bench-like seat, and proceeded to serve himself a generous portion of shepherd’s pie. “I know that something has to have gone on, Harry,” he said quietly, picking at the munificent slices of carrot, buried just beneath the layer of mashed potatoes.

“How do you figure?” Harry asked, putting a few slices of roast, plus a fair few boiled potatoes, as well as a good helping of roasted veg, onto his plate.

“It’s quite obvious, if you ask me,” Draco continued, helping himself to the pitcher of Gillywater, “that something has happened to upset you.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep himself from lashing out at Draco further, and proceeded to drown both his roast and potatoes in gravy, careful not to get any upon his roasted veg. “Plenty can upset me, Draco.”

Draco blinked, turning to look over at Harry. “Plenty?” he queried.

“Of course,” Harry said, letting go of his knife and fork and settling them on either side of his plate presently. “My parents are dead. I’m forced to live in squalor with my aunt and uncle, who treat me like a glorified house-elf, dress me up in my cousin’s cast-off clothes which are several sizes too big for me, I can only eat when they say so and even then it’s hardly anything. I have a godfather who loves me but, because of some bloody blood wards and his Azkaban record, I’m not allowed even to live with him, no matter how much I may want to. Not to mention that there’s a woman working for Fudge—who doesn’t believe that Riddle has returned, after all this time—and likes to use medieval torture methods for her detentions. Plus, there’s the notion that there’s a madman after me, considering that he marked me for death at fifteen-months-old, and has tried on many occasions since then to attempt to kill me. I may have a fortune, but it’s locked away until I turn seventeen, and there’s no way to tell if I’ll live that long...”

“Do you think you will?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t even know what the bloody hell I’ll do once I’m out of here, and Riddle’s taken down. Say I do live,” he went on, staring off into space as he thought it over, “I think I’d want...”

“What?”

Harry sighed a second time, before lowering his eyes back down onto the surface of the Gryffindor table. “It’s stupid...”

“I doubt that,” Draco said, pushing his plate away. “Tell me.”

Harry turned and looked at Draco, emerald meeting silver, and decided, in that moment, that it would do him well to trust the blond, as he had given all of the information on the Death Eater camp he knew to Dumbledore, and the headmaster, true to his word, was making sure that Draco would never have to go back to Wiltshire by force again. “I have feelings for someone.”

It was only five words, but these five words were crucial ones, as Harry hadn’t dared to open his mouth on the clandestine matter to anyone. Of course, he had considered doing so with Ron and Hermione, and even Ginny once or twice, but Draco certainly hadn’t been his first choice. The notion of the information potentially getting into the wrong hands scared Harry more than anything else ever had before, for, this time, he had something to lose. Severus. At the end of things, Severus was proving to be an essential key to getting up-to-date information on Riddle, due to his status as a spy, and Harry wasn’t about to jeopardize the mission, despite the fact that he hated it that the man risked his neck, day and night, night and day, for the safety of the Wizarding World, no matter if it was up to him or not.

“Who for?”

Harry blinked, temporarily lost in his own thoughts. “What?”

“Who do you have feelings for?” Draco said, slower this time.

Harry swallowed; he couldn’t give out the second part of the information, not yet. Despite the fact that they were on the same side, and that he was slowly but surely beginning to trust Draco, Harry could hardly tell him that the man he was lusting after was Draco’s own godfather. “I would rather not say.”

“Is it a witch?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled. “If you’re worried that it’s Ginny, please don’t. I told you upon discovering the knowledge of your coupling that she’s like my sister, and I meant it.”

Draco readily breathed a sigh of relief. “Not that I didn’t believe you, but...”

Harry blinked. “But...? What?”

“You’re the Boy Who Lived, Harry,” Draco said, without any form of patronization in his tone, and Harry found he was still slightly surprised by that fact. “And I know that you told me that she’s like your sister, but you and I both know she had a bit of a crush on you a while back, and one word from you, and...”

“No word from me,” Harry assured him with a small smile. “I’ve snogged one witch in my entire life, and that was Cho Chang.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “She’s pretty,” he said with an approving nod. “Is she the one you have feelings for?”

“Merlin, no!” he said, immediately shaking his head at Draco. “She’s with Michael Corner now, remember?”

“That’s right, yeah,” Draco said, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d forgotten about the Ravenclaw Seeker’s relationship status. “Why did you snog her if you weren’t interested?”

“She snogged me,” Harry clarified. “She was upset about Cedric. I talked to her about it before the Christmas hols, hoping that we could finally put the subject to rest. She ended up kissing me out of gratitude, I think, now that she finally has that chapter of her life sorted out. She needed closure above all things, and I was thankful to have been the one to give that to her.”

“So, no feelings, then?”

“None of that nature, no,” Harry told him. “For... For any witches, really...”

Draco raised his eyebrows ever so slightly at that. “Oh.”

Harry turned over and looked at him, another sigh escaping his lips. “It’s a stereotype that a lot of Purebloods hate gay people...”

Draco nodded at him. “That’s true, a lot of them do,” he told him. “I, however, do not fall into that category, no matter how much Lucius attempted to beat it into my head how wrong it was, in his eyes, at the very least...”

“And your mother?”

Draco shrugged. “I personally don’t think she had anything against it, but what can I say? She has chosen Lucius over me...”

Harry shook his head. “I’d never do that.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Choose my significant other over my own child, no matter how much I loved the former,” he said softly, passionately.

“So, that’s what you want after the war, then?”

Harry blinked, shaking his head. “What? Want what?”

“A family,” Draco said. “Children.”

Harry smiled slowly then, picturing a houseful of raven-haired children—some with eyes the color of onyx, and some with his striking emerald—laughing, loving, with a certain pair of strong arms wrapped around his, as they watched the children play in an expansive garden somewhere at a beautiful house in the country... “Yes,” he whispered, becoming more and more lost in the fantasy. “That’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted, really...”

“I take it you know who you want it with, then.”

Harry nodded at the blond. “Yes, I do. However, it’s impossible...”

“Why?”

“He likes witches,” Harry said, and putting voice to that very fact succeeded in shattering his heart into a thousand pieces. “Plus, there’s a hefty age difference to consider, not to mention the controversy it would likely bring...”

“Do you love him?”

Harry’s eyes widened at that and immediately shook his head. “Love?” he cried out then, feeling himself flushing at the implication the Slytherin suggested. “No! No, of course not.”

Draco’s brows knit together. “You’re afraid.”

Harry’s clenched his fists. “Don’t tell me I’m afraid! I’m not afraid. Being afraid is a weakness, Draco, and I’m not weak!”

Draco looked startled at the sudden outburst then, and immediately shook his head. “No one is saying that, Harry, let alone implying it.”

Harry gritted his teeth, promptly turning to stare downwards at the complex patterns upon the surface of the table. “Whatever...”

“Harry...”

“What?” he barked.

“I want you to understand that loving, or falling in love, isn’t a sign of weakness,” Draco told him quietly, obviously not wanting to upset him.

Harry shook his head. “No, it... It isn’t because of that...”

“Well, what is it, then?” Draco wanted to know.

“It’s because people die,” Harry whispered, his voice shaking. “People die, the ones that I choose to love, anyway. They die. They all die...”

“You don’t want to lose this person,” Draco whispered.

It was not a guess.

“No,” Harry whispered, scrubbing the tears out of his eyes. “No, I don’t. No matter what he feels for me, I don’t want to lose him. I can’t...can’t lose him,” he said, forcing himself to pull his plate and utensils back towards him, and cut into his dinner, while Draco raised his eyes upwards then, catching Severus’s eye at the head table, and noticed that his godfather had witnessed the little display from Harry, and, looking between the two of them, the blond slowly but surely began to put two and two together.

~*~

Despite his protests to both Dumbledore, McGonagall, and to Sirius, Harry was told he would have to see Severus one final time for Occlumency. Dragging his feet, he went downstairs to the dungeons a week after his conversation with Draco in the Great Hall. He thought he could have been wrong, but he detected that the potions master’s eyes had been lingering upon him just a little too much, and the thought both unnerved and elicited delight from him.

He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, not for anything, and constantly reminded himself of Severus’s apparent feelings for his mother. The way he’d looked at her, even through his anger, within the memory he had seen... There was clearly something lingering behind those haunting onyx eyes. And while Harry found he couldn’t quite put a finger on what that feeling was, he was quite positive it had to be attraction.

Harry knocked upon the door at the appointed time, and Severus promptly opened it, ushering him inside without comment on the hour or Harry’s being on time. Harry moved across the room and awaited to be spoken to, not wanting to step on the man’s toes. He hung back, as he had been doing the last several weeks of term, unknowing what to do, or what to say, let alone where would be a good place to put his hands.

He was well-rested, if that was anything remotely positive, due to the fact that he had gone to Grimmauld Place with everyone, including Draco, the weekend before, for the Easter holidays, much to Draco’s relief. To Harry contentment, Draco had been accepted readily into the loyal and loving fold of the Weasley family, who were overjoyed to see Ginny in a relationship with someone, at long last, who claimed to love her so well. Harry, meanwhile, had spent most of the holiday weekend sleeping, studying in the library, or having a few quiet moments with Witherwings, who he would still call Buckbeak in private. He even wondered if it would be a good idea to introduce him to Draco.

“Good holiday, Potter?” Severus asked.

Harry gave a stiff nod. “Yes. Thank you, sir.” He hesitated for a moment. “Could you possibly tell me why I’m here? I thought I made it quite clear that I believed our lessons to be finished last week...”

Severus nodded. “Yes, well, it seems there could be a more permanent arrangement, one that will mean ultimate protection, and will ensure your safety.”

Harry inclined his head. “Very well, then. Let’s hear it.”

“Permanent blocks,” Severus stated.

Harry cocked his head to one side. “Pardon?” he asked.

“Permanent blocks, Potter. Mind blocks.”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”

“I will enter your mind, as usual, and you must let me in,” Severus explained. “Except, during this entrance, I will not seek to view your memories. I will seek to put up permanent Warding Spells within your mind.”

Harry gasped. “So, I wouldn’t have to do anything?”

Severus shook his head. “No. Just allow me within your mind to erect the spells, and then I will be on my way, so to speak. It shan’t take long, however, it could pose to be a draining process upon you, so I suggest we go into my quarters.”

Harry’s mouth went dry at the suggestion. “Sir?” he whispered.

“There is a couch for you to lie upon in the living room, Potter,” Severus said, quickly growing impatient with the teenager, clearly knowing where Harry’s mind had drifted to. “Well, come along,” he stated, turning around and moving towards a door on the other side of the classroom. “Haven’t got all night.”

Harry stumbled slightly as he moved to follow the man, his face heating readily at his incompetence when it came to basic walking, and walked into the man’s rooms when invited, doing his best not to look up at him. He followed the gesturing of Severus Snape’s hand as it motioned for him to go over to the couch. Not surprisingly, it was black leather, placed atop a stylish Persian rug, and facing directly opposite a black marble mantel, which had a roaring fire just beneath. There was a rather beautiful oil painting just above the shelf of the mantel, and Harry took in the delicate brush strokes with impressive color palette. The painting showcased a young woman with milk-white skin and raven hair in a kneeling position, looking to be in a forest somewhere, and was opening the lid of an impressive-looking golden box.

“Sir...”

Severus looked over at Harry then, and followed his gaze, to where it was resting upon the painting above the mantel. “Ah, yes,” he said fondly. “ _Pandora_ , by John William Waterhouse, 1896,” he informed him.

“How did you come by it? It’s lovely...”

“The Prince family, my mother’s family, were among the Pureblood elite,” Severus explained, his tone somewhere far away. “However, my mother was disinherited when she married my father, Tobias Snape. They never saw her again, let alone spoke to her.”

“But, the painting...”

“My mother always told me of a secret hiding place she kept at Prince Manor,” Severus informed him. “Well, my mother had a sister, Ilona, who in turn had a daughter, Alya, who I am in correspondence with. She attended Hogwarts, and was about three years behind me—a Ravenclaw,” he said to Harry’s unanswered question. “When we grew up, we became close after both our mothers died. I informed her of the hiding place,” he went on. “Normally, the direct heir went to the male side, but the Princes changed it, making Ayla the ultimate heir. Since I agreed not to contest the will, she gave me the painting,” Severus finished softly.

“Where is Ayla now?” Harry queried.

“Ah,” Severus whispered. “She moved on to Holland some time ago. I don’t know what befell the manor, or my dear cousin. We haven’t spoken in... Well, quite some time.”

“You sound like you miss her,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

Severus immediately whipped around at the proclamation, or perhaps it was merely from the suggestion of him potentially having some kind of feelings, and his eyes onyx blazed. “What I may or may not feel for my cousin is none of your concern, Potter,” he said, his own mask firmly in place again. “We are here to ensure your protection from the Dark Lord,” he went on, moving to stand in a combative stance, before him, “and nothing else.”

Harry lowered his eyes, doing his best to ignore the developing lump in his throat. “Right, sir, of course not,” he said softly.

“Very well, then,” Severus continued, and Harry was vaguely aware of him raising his wand. “I will now be using a spell of my own creation to enter your mind. Prepare yourself.”

Harry straightened up on the couch then, and raised his eyes to meet that of the potions professor, knowing that, since all the philosophers said that the eyes were the windows of your soul, Severus would, therefore, have to see inside of him, so as to navigate himself accordingly and appropriately. “I am ready,” he said, opening his mind.

“ _Animum inire_ ,” Severus intoned then, a white light flowing out of the tip of his wand, and Harry felt it nudging at his forehead for a moment, before he calmed his senses and allowed it entrance. “Very good, Potter,” Severus said, never losing focus. “Now for the second part of the work for the evening... _Animi muros erigere_ ,” he said, and a bright yellow light came forth then, and Harry shut his eyes the moment it flowed inside his mind, so as he could watch the man’s progress from within.

The walls that Harry had erected beforehand, he realized, were clearly smoke and mirrors, and watched, breathless, as brick upon brick of reinforced steel built itself from the ground up, all within his mind. They moved deftly, from one memory to the next, going through the timeline, of sorts, to build what they needed to. Finally, the final block was added into place, and Harry felt the man’s presence beginning to leave, now that the job was done.

Harry slowly opened his eyes then, knowing that his knees would’ve been weak, had he been standing up, and he would have likely crumpled to the floor. He looked up then, and saw that Severus was retrieving something from a cabinet, only to return a moment later with a bar of chocolate, which he handed over to him, while chewing on one himself.

“Come on, Potter. It’s hardly poisoned,” he snapped, slightly impatient. “It’s just Honeydukes Best Chocolate. I’m sure your wolf has given you plenty since third-year.”

Harry ignored the barb towards Remus, knowing now where it had come from, and took the offered bar. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, slowly beginning to peel back the wrapping.

“Endorphins,” Severus muttered.

Harry looked up at him. “Pardon?” he asked, before nibbling at the chocolate.

“You need endorphins,” the man explained in a curt manner. “They prolong happiness, and the sugar that the chocolate contains will give you energy.”

“Like after a Dementor attack,” Harry said, slowly chewing the bar.

Severus nodded. “Yes,” he allowed, “precisely.”

Harry mulled over the conversation for a few moments, chewing his chocolate bar slowly. Due to the prolonged periods of starvation he had suffered from over the years—years where he needed food on a regular basis, due to his growing, or, given the starvation, lack thereof—he could not eat quickly. By the same token, he could not eat a lot either, for such activities made him sick. He got used to watching Ron eat a lot, and, in the beginning of their friendship, he was slightly jealous of this fact. Ron’s family, while poor, were surrounded by love and plenty of food, while the Dursleys, who were middle-class, had plenty of food, had not been willing to share it overmuch with a magical freak like him.

“Sir...”

“Yes, Potter?”

Harry slowly dragged his eyes towards Severus’s, meeting them, as he folded up the rest of his chocolate bar and considered placing it in his pocket to be saved for later. “Why?”

“Why what, Potter?”

“Why does all of this matter?”

“‘This’ being?”

“The mind walls, and these lessons,” he said quietly. “I know it’s for Riddle, of course. I’m not completely stupid. But I’m sure there’s a deeper meaning to it all, I know it...”

Severus sighed, sinking into one of the chairs directly next to his fireplace and gazing into the flames. “Yes, Potter, there is indeed a deeper meaning to all of this.”

“Please,” Harry said softly, and the onyx eyes met his, “don’t keep me in the dark. Professor Dumbledore kept me in the dark all through first-term, but I need to know what is happening. I am the war, sir—were it not for me, well, the headmaster wouldn’t have his precious little weapon at his beck and call,” he said, his tone slightly bitter, as he scuffed his trainer a bit along the fine wool hairs of the Persian rug. “Just...tell me.”

“Tell you what, Potter?”

“Why all of this matters,” Harry repeated, his shoulders slacking ever so slightly, suddenly feeling like an old man, who, despite having his entire life mapped out for him, felt so old and tired that giving up seemed like the logical conclusion.

Severus sighed, turning to look at him. “You’re the hope, Potter.”

Harry blinked, looking up again. “Sorry?”

“The hope, Potter. Hope for the Wizarding World, the hope to end Riddle, the hope to make the side of the Light rise again... The hope for all of us, really.”

“I am a commodity,” he whispered, shaking his head. “A mere puppet on a string. I belong to the Wizarding World, not as a soldier in arms, but as the ultimate warrior. And I am sick of it,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. “I never wanted this, any of it. All I’ve ever wanted was to be just Harry, but it seems as if that fact is impossible.”

“Potter...”

“No, don’t you dare pity me,” Harry said firmly, raising his eyes to his professors’, but hating that the tears had come, unbidden, from his eyes. “That’s even worse that being martyred and fawned over—pitied. I cannot stand all the _pity_.” He spat the word, as if it was acid in his throat, before he pocketed the chocolate bar and left the room, making his way towards Gryffindor Tower, the walk more lonely than it had ever been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animum inire: Enter the Mind  
> Animi muros erigere: To raise the walls of the mind


	5. Rise and Fall Again

Harry was running on that final Friday in April, heart pounding in his chest and ears, feet slamming down one after the other upon the stone floor, wanting to put as much distance as possible from Defense Against the Dark Arts and himself as possible. He wasn’t hungry, after yet another sparring match with Umbridge, and he could practically feel the blood still dripping from the back of his hand, where five words had carved themselves.

Harry finally made it to the Room of Requirement and got inside, shutting himself in from the outside world, content to remain there in his makeshift bedroom from Grimmauld, as the room had identified it as a safe space for him. Harry climbed onto the bed and dropped his bag beside it, drawing his knees upwards and to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he did so. He couldn’t believe the conversation he’d just had with the pink toad...

_“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?” he’d lashed out, unable to control his temper with the toad any longer._

_“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident,” the tragic excuse for a woman had replied. “However, I will not have you spouting lies in my classroom.”_

_“Lies? Lies?!” Harry cried out. “What are you talking about?”_

_“Let me make this quite plain,” she said, making a spectacle of herself then as she moved to address the entire class. “You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard is at large. This...is...a...lie,” she said, breaking up the words one by one, almost as if that very action would drive the point home._

_Harry immediately shook his head. “It’s not a lie! I saw him! I fought him—!”_

_“Detention, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge shouted, speaking over him as she moved back towards the front of the classroom. “My office, once class is over,” she said, and let out a little pathetic squeak of laughter, making Harry’s blood boil even further._

Harry angled his hand just so, looking down at the words, which had previously been carved into his skin several months ago, but now were brighter again, due to the fresh blood outlining the words, _I must not tell lies_. He’d told Sirius and Remus that he would make an effort to keep his head down during class time, but the return of Riddle, as well as the death of Cedric, were equally touchy subjects for him. He leaned back then, head hitting the pillow at the head of the bed as his eyes grew heavy, and fluttered closed.

It was the smell of sandwiches which woke him and, checking his watch, saw that it was nearing eight o’clock at night. Opening his eyes and sitting up, he saw that there was a platter of sandwiches, a jug of pumpkin juice with a glass, a decent-sized packet of crisps, and a generous slice of treacle tart waiting for him on a massive platter beside the bed. Shaking his head and almost immediately knowing that Dobby had been up to this, he nevertheless pulled the little table towards him and tucked into the meal. He knew a Stasis Charm had likely been used upon the food to keep it fresh, and briefly praised the elf for thinking of everything.

Once he’d finished his meal and put a Cleaning Charm upon his hands, the platters and table and everything else disappeared, likely returning to the kitchen to be washed. It suited Harry just fine, as he took out a charms essay which was due Monday, and proceeded to scratch out what was left to be done of his final draft. As he worked, only aware of the fireplace crackling opposite and the scratching sounds his quill made against his parchment, he was completely unaware of the door opening towards his right, his head bent into his work.

“Mr. Potter.”

All of the hairs on Harry’s body immediately stood at attention at the sound of that velvet-like voice, and he looked up, flushing immediately. “Sir,” he said softly.

“You and I are required to touch base on Monday and Friday evenings to discuss how the blocks against the Dark Lord are working within your mind,” Severus Snape said, walking closer to him, an impatient look in his onyx eyes. “Am I to assume you forgot this evening, or are so willfully arrogant that you believed it to be unnecessary?”

Harry’s eyes, which had gone back onto his essay to complete a thought, immediately snapped to that of the potions master, which caused him to lose his focus, and create a line in the ink that didn’t need to be there. “Dammit,” he muttered, taking his wand from his pocket and vanishing the ink stain.

“Wait a moment.” Severus moved across the room completely then, and Harry looked up as the man stepped towards him. The man bent slightly and took ahold of Harry’s hand, and although the younger man was about to protest, he was silenced by the dark glare of the elder. “What have you done to yourself now, Potter?”

Harry promptly yanked his arm back. “Just from detention, doesn’t matter,” he muttered, just as he begun to gather up his things, content to finish his work in the common room.

Severus took ahold of his wrist then, returning Harry to his previous sitting position, and stared into his eyes. “Detention?” he growled through his teeth. “With whom, may I ask?”

Harry swallowed, cheeks flushing from the intensity of the man’s stare. “It... It really doesn’t matter, sir,” he whispered.

“Potter, were you instructed to write lines for this detention?”

Harry sighed. “Yes.”

Severus visibly stiffened. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but was the quill you used in the detention not your own?”

Harry shook his head. “No, it wasn’t my quill.”

“And, this quill you wrote with,” Severus continued, looking back down at Harry’s hand, “were you given ink?”

Harry’s shoulders slackened then, and shook his head once again. “No, I was told that I wouldn’t be needing any ink.”

“When you wrote with this quill,” Severus continued, obviously attempting to keep his temper with the situation, “what color was the ink upon the parchment?”

Harry’s heart pounded all over again. “Red,” he managed to get out.

Severus dropped Harry’s hand as if he had been burned. “You’ve been using a blood quill!” he shouted then, voice dripping with anger.

Harry lowered his eyes. “Yes, I see,” he said softly. “May as well keep my mouth shut in that bitch’s class until after term ends...”

“That bitch’s class...?” Severus cut himself off then as Harry’s eyes met his, causing his mouth to set into a thin line. “The toad has done this to you?!” he spat.

Harry dragged his opposite hand through his hair. “Yes. Merlin, yes. It was her...”

“And what did you do that got you into that situation?”

“She is Fudge’s puppet, due to her employment at the ministry, although perhaps she can form her own thought process, I don’t know,” Harry grumbled then.

“Potter, what did you say?” Severus demanded, growing impatient.

Harry looked up at the man then, narrowing his eyes at him. “She _still_ refuses to believe that Riddle is well and truly back, and she deliberately taunts me with that information!” he cried out then, his voice shaking.

Severus sighed, reaching out and holding his wand above the wounds, causing them to heal and close up with a song of a spell, although Harry could not hear the words, for he was much too distracted by the man literally holding his hand to form any other clear thoughts. “Although you and I both know that information is to that contrary, Potter, that is no reason to...”

The young man swallowed as his hand was returned to him, and he immediately proceeded to knot his fingers into the bedclothes. “She implied, while I was writing lines, that Cedric’s death was my fault,” Harry told him, for he had been unaware to process the thought before.

Severus blinked. “She what?”

Harry sighed, tears streaming out of his eyes before he could stop them. “Maybe... Maybe it was my fault, you know?” he whispered, throwing himself up and off the bed and pacing back and forth, considering it at length.

Severus shook his head. “Potter...”

“No. I should’ve taken the port key to the graveyard, and made him stay behind, knowing what I know now. He should’ve gone back to his mum and dad, and I should have gone to that damned graveyard...”

“Potter, calm yourself...”

“No!” Harry shouted, his calm completely gone. “Maybe... Maybe if I’d died that night, things would’ve been much simpler...”

“NO!” came the shout of the potions master then, as he stamped across the room, and yanked Harry into his arms. “I don’t want to hear you saying that, Harry! Not from you!”

Harry eased himself back slightly then, staring upwards at the man. “You... You called me ‘Harry’,” he whispered. “You haven’t done that before...”

Severus looked torn for a moment then, before he sighed. “I’ve dealt you a terrible hand from the moment you came under the protection of this school, Harry,” he said softly. “Words cannot express how apologetic I am for it.”

Harry felt his heart entering his throat then. “Just wish that all of this was easier,” he whispered, knowing full well how deep he was in his feelings for the man.

“What was, Harry?”

Harry sighed, knowing that he couldn’t burden the man with the information, and so he slipped from his arms. “Nothing,” he replied, and moved to gather his things.

“Harry?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, although his assurances fell flat.

“Harry,” the man said, placing a hand upon his arm, and Harry permitted himself to lock eyes with him, one final time. “Please. What is bothering you?”

And although it hurt him a great deal, Harry pulled away from him, and murmured, “Nothing is bothering me, sir,” before he slipped from the room and was gone.

~*~

Harry scurried up to the owlery with a packet of owl treats for Hedwig, for he was anticipating a letter from Sirius, and he knew that she would expect a due reward. As he stepped into the space and looked for her, he spotted the dark owl that Severus had used weeks before, when they had been up here together. It was the third Friday in May, and Harry had just completed his Ancient Runes OWL, along with Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Dean, and Seamus. He had told Hermione that, prior to studying for their potions exam come Monday, he wanted to take a short break to visit Hedwig. It was Ron who helped convince Hermione by distraction and, by the time Hermione realized it, Harry was already gone.

Harry stepped towards the pretty dark owl, and offered it a treat, but the thing just started at it, before inching forward, and butting Harry’s hand with his head. “Hey, boy,” he said, regarding the name plate, and discovering the name of the lovely creature was Augustus. “Do you know where Hedwig has gotten to?”

Augustus the owl gave a plaintive sound before flying a short distance away, into a dark corner of the owlery, where Harry noticed the tell-tale sight of snow-white wings. Stepping closer, he watched as Augustus gently poked his beak into the mass, and Hedwig’s amber eyes raised to his, and Harry could easily sense the pain there. He stumbled forward, gently easing Hedwig into his arms, and she let out a soft hoot at the gesture.

“Hedwig!” Harry cried out then, tears pricking at his eyes, when he noticed that one of her legs was pulled in the wrong direction, and her wing was bent. Shaking, Harry pulled out his wand and shouted, “ _Expecto Patronum_!” and waited for Prongs to make himself known. “Go to Ron and Hermione, let them know it’s an emergency—it’s Hedwig!” he cried out then, his voice trembling from emotion, as the stag rushed out of there.

Carrying the broken owl carefully out of the owlery, Harry ignored the sunshine around him, and was slightly surprised that Augustus never left his side. He looked up at the creature then, his wings illuminated in the blue sky, and wondered what to do. Finally, he looked fully up at the owl, knowing that, perhaps, he would know.

“Where can I take her to be helped?” he asked brokenly.

Augustus hooted then and suddenly surged forward, whipping as fast as he could, and Harry noticed that he was making his way to Hagrid’s hut. The giant had been off on assignment for Dumbledore for much of the year, and the position of Care of Magical Creatures had been taken over by Professor Grubbly-Plank. However, the giant had returned a few weeks ago, and Harry knew that Hedwig would be in the best hands possible with him.

“Harry!” came Hermione’s familiar shout from atop the hill, and, turning, he saw both Ron and Hermione rushing towards him.

“Merlin, mate, what happened?!” Ron demanded, staring down at Hedwig.

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Harry sobbed, keeping a good grip upon her. “I found her in the owlery like this...”

“Let’s get her to Hagrid’s,” Hermione said diplomatically, tears staining her eyes as she threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders and managed to guide him forward.

Ron charged forward, rapping at the man’s door, just as Hagrid opened up and stared down at him. “Hagrid!” Ron cried out between bursts of breath.

“Ah, hello there, Ron,” the giant said fondly, before looking up, and spotting Harry and Hermione, along with Hedwig’s weak body in Harry’s arms. “Oi! Wha’s happened?!” he demanded, lumbering forward, Fang at his heels.

“He found her in the owlery like that,” Hermione explained.

“She’s got a twisted leg and a broken wing,” Harry said, his tone equally broken, as he handed her over to Hagrid.

“Oh, Hedwig,” Hagrid said, gently stroking her feathers, and holding her close. “Come inside, all of yer. We’ve got to set ‘er wing an’ leg before they freeze like tha’.” Turning, the giant lumbered back into the hut, Fang following, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushing just behind the dog, who appeared to be equally concerned.

Ron shut the door behind them all, while Hermione crossed the room to boil some water, some for the procedure, and some for cups of tea. Harry remained standing by the door, in shock, while Fang stood guard beside him, leaning slightly into his side. He was barely able to comprehend what Hagrid was doing, but managed to watch as the giant got some bandage-like cloth for his bird and proceeded to see to her wounds.

“Umbridge must’ve done this,” Ron muttered darkly, and Hermione’s dark eyes latched onto him at once.

“You don’t think she could have...”

“You may be righ’,” Hagrid said, gently tending to Hedwig, who hooted softly within Hagrid’s massive hands. “Tha’ woman’s had it ou’ for our ‘Arry fer as long as I can remember. She’s one nasty piece o’ work.”

Harry watched as Hagrid painstakingly bound up Hedwig’s wing and leg. “Hagrid, you don’t really think Umbridge would’ve...?”

“She wanted me ter be demoted back ter gamekeeper when I got back ‘ere,” he said with a shrug, never taking his eyes off Hedwig as he worked. “Tha’s a good girl, ‘Edwig. No strugglin’ now,” he scolded gently, and Hedwig’s eyes slowly fluttered closed, likely exhausted from the ordeal. “Now, can yer tell me who did this to yer?” he asked.

Hedwig let out a mournful sound then, eyes fluttering open, and staring somberly at Hagrid, before sleep took her. Hagrid gently lifted her up again, once her leg and wing were set, and placed her upon a high-shelf, which boasted a small blanket and pillow. The blanket was large enough to tuck around her, which the giant did, before gently stroking her head and leaving off of her to rest.

“Umbridge,” he confirmed. “Filch’s orders.”

“That low-life toad, pink-bonnet wearing, high-pitched whining, little—”

“Ron, that won’t solve anything,” Hermione whispered, pouring them all massive cups of tea, which she levitated to the mammoth, circular table. “And while I agree with you that that abomination of a witch should be taken down a peg, I cannot in good faith permit the man I love to sink to her level.”

Ron sighed, slipping into the seat beside her at the table. “I love you, ‘Mione.”

Harry moved to sit beside Hagrid on the other side of the table. “The sooner the year’s over and done with, the better,” he muttered.

~*~

The final OWL for the fifth-years the following week was that of History of Magic, one which Harry was personally not looking forward to. The class itself was tedious at best, and he and Ron agreed that they would take Herbology as opposed to History of Magic, in order to apply for the Auror Academy, come graduation. Hermione, however, had poured over her books for months leading up to the schedule being released, causing Harry and Ron to roll their eyes. Hermione, meanwhile, had been quite strict with their OWL schedule, letting them know that it was not a laughing matter, and that they needed their OWLs in order to make a plan for what their NEWTs would ultimately be, come seventh-year.

Harry trudged to the examination location that day, annoyed that Umbridge was to be serving as proctor for the examination, as Professor Binns overseeing it was deemed as a conflict of interest. Hermione had explained at length why that was, but Harry hadn’t been listening. The scrambled eggs in the Great Hall had been runny that morning, and Harry thought Hermione had said something about a Morose Charm making them that way by association.

Regardless, Harry’s mind was a jumble of thoughts about what had befallen Hedwig. His owl was still stationed in Hagrid’s hut, as she had been for the past week, and Harry made an effort to see her in between the time examinations had ended and dinner had begun. Now that they were on their final day of exams, getting to see Hedwig before they presumably returned home to Number 4 Privet Drive that summer would prove to be much easier. Her wing was very nearly better, although her leg’s position left much to be desired. Although he was hesitant to admit it, he knew she would be confined to her cage for much of the summer, and knew that his dear familiar wouldn’t take too kindly to that treatment. And as he walked to the Great Hall, where all the OWL examinations took place, he found himself feeling all the more empty than before, and no one could say anything to make him think otherwise.

Harry found a seat in one of the many desks scattered about the classroom. They had been made this way via a Cutting Spell, so as attempts at cheating by copying directly off of someone else’s exams would be noticed. Harry ignored Umbridge, practically seething with anger at what she had done, and although both Ron and Hermione, as well as Hagrid, had told him to report his suspicions of her injuries to Dumbledore, he had done no such thing. He set down his bag at the foot of his desk, and took out his ink, quills, and wand, which was only to be used to vanish ink stains or mistakes during the exam.

Umbridge addressed the students once the appropriate hour had arrived, and spelled their exams onto their respective desks. As she went over instructions, everyone scrawled their names in the blank spot provided, and she went over the routine rules. No Auto-Answer Quills, no peeking at other exams, no talking until you’d finished and left the classroom, and the like. Finally, she stopped running her mouth and permitted the students to begin, and Harry dipped his quill in the provided pot of ink and began scrawling down the answers.

There was a ticking sound from a clock nearby, but Harry hardly noticed the sound, as he attempted to remember scattered facts about goblin rebellions, gargoyle strikes, witch and wizard standard and complex laws, and the odd question about a vampire bat that didn’t seem to belong there but, nevertheless, was upon the parchment anyhow. Once he had finished, about an hour and a quarter into the two-hour time limit, he banished his test towards the front of the class and left, spotting Ron, Hermione, and Draco outside in the corridor, as they had all finished their exams already.

“Want to go see Hedwig, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The four fifth-years walked outside through the courtyard to get to Hagrid’s hut, when suddenly they were blindsided by sparks flying in the air. Looking up, they spotted Fred and George, who were whooping and hollering with joy, and using their wands to cast the sparks, while flying madly upon their brooms. There was a clamor from somewhere inside the school then, and many other students ran out of doors—Neville, Seamus, and Dean from the exam, and Ginny and Luna from their respective classes. Ginny found them in the crowd and Draco pulled her into his arms, while Neville and Luna found one another shortly thereafter.

Harry turned slightly then, to see that Umbridge had made an effort to follow the students who had left the exam, and that Filch, carrying Mrs. Norris, was right behind her. They were staring upwards at the eighteen-year-old boys, who emitted joy with every move they made upon their brooms, using their wands to create intricate patterns in the sky. Harry was quite positive that the Wizarding World was familiar with fireworks by this time, due to the impressive display he had seen while with Hermione and the Weasley family at the Quidditch World Cup Finale the summer before, when things slowly but surely began to change, what with the Dark Mark appearing above the burned-out remains of the camp, once the Death Eaters had seized it, and one Barty Crouch, Jr. had made his play for Harry’s death for the first time.

It was then that Fred and George seemed to nod to one another, before they slashed at the air with their wands. Fred made a pink toad in the sky, before intricately drawing a red general prohibition sign through it, while George wrote in beautiful amber sparks _For Hedwig_. Harry felt touched at the gesture, as the twins had known pretty much immediately through Harry, Ron, and Hermione what had befallen Harry’s familiar. Harry turned around then and glared at Umbridge for a moment, who looked thoroughly put out by the entirety of the situation.

The finale of the show turned out to be a red-orange ‘W’ in the sky, which directly caused Ron and Ginny to applaud their antics. Harry, Hermione, and Draco did so as well, for the both of them were now fully integrated within the brood itself. And then, Fred and George turned one last time towards the institution of learning, and gave secret smiles to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco, before they spurred their brooms like horses, and flew off into the distance and disappeared over the tops of the Forbidden Forest and beyond.

“Mum’ll be furious,” Ron said with a grin, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, all but laughing from the impressive display.

“I didn’t expect anything different from either of them,” Ginny observed as she snuggled even closer still into Draco’s arm.

“You’re absolutely correct, my Ginevra,” Draco put in.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but moved closer to Harry and took his hand. “You all right?” she asked him tentatively.

Harry sighed. “Countdown begins,” he said softly. “Sooner or later, we’ve all got to make a choice between what is right and what is easy,” he whispered, remembering Dumbledore’s words from the year before. “What’s it going to be, then?” he asked himself, or Hermione, he really didn’t know who, as he turned around then, wanting to witness Umbridge’s effective and explosive defeat just one more time.

~*~

Harry walked down the stairs from the fifth-year dorms and into the common room, where he saw both Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Ginny, lazing about on the couch in front of the massive fireplace. It had been fifteen days since Fred and George had made their final exit from Hogwarts, and, according to Ron and Ginny, there had been a bevy of Howlers awaiting them at their final destination. Via a loan that Harry had given them—which had come directly from his Triwizard Tournament winnings—they had set up shop at 93 Diagon Alley, and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been born.

“It’s the best opening, mate!” Ron had crowed to Harry as Harry came down the stairs and made himself known.

“What is?” he asked.

“What _else_?” Ginny cried, tossing that day’s edition of _The Daily Prophet_ at him, where it read, _Weasley Twins Take Diagon_ , with a report that Fred and George’s shop had had the best opening since the seventeenth century, when Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor had opened up in the alley itself.

“And it’s all thanks to you, mate,” Ron said admiringly, summoning the paper back, which Hermione quickly snatched to look it over.

“Really,” Hermione said, clicking her tongue. “The rumor of Fudge being sacked is far more important than a new shop in Diagon Alley opening.”

Ron clutched at his chest and threw himself down into her lap in a mock-faint. “Oh, ‘Mione, what would your future brothers-in-law have to say about that?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Should we leave...?”

“No!” Ginny shouted then, leaning forward. “Is this a conversation that has been asked and accepted by the both of you? Am I to finally have Hermione as my sister in truth?”

Hermione promptly bunched up _The Prophet_ and slapped Ron upon the head with it. “I thought we agreed not to discuss permanent arrangements until you and I both were seventeen,” she hissed at him with narrowed eyes.

“Oi!” Ron cried out, rubbing his head.

Harry smirked at their antics, but nevertheless shook his head. “Wish I could stay, but I’ve a meeting to make.”

“With the headmaster?” Draco guessed.

Harry shook his head. “No. And I would say it would do me good to get out of the common room to get some fresh air for a while, but the Quidditch Pitch is...occupied.”

“Yeah,” Ron said with a shudder. “Seamus and Lavender making themselves known is enough to make me ill.”

“At least we don’t have to see Dean and Susan together,” Ginny replied, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.

“Luna and Neville’s relationship is much more tolerable,” Draco said in a diplomatic tone, gently easing Ginny closer to him.

“Honestly, all of you,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “We’re growing up. It’s only natural for romantic relationships to form eventually by those who choose them. Although, I’ll readily admit that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson pairing up frightens me to no end...”

Harry slipped out of the common room without a final goodbye, and made his way down the stairs and into the dungeons, where he had been summoned by note after lunch that afternoon. It was now early evening, and Harry hoped to wrap up his meeting with the potions master quickly, so as he could go and see Hedwig at Hagrid’s before dinner. The temperature became colder around him as he descended the stone steps, and proceeded down the corridor, lit only by medieval-looking torches, and found the door of the potions classroom, and rapped on it three times, before waiting to be let in.

Severus opened the door and stood back, allowing Harry entrance, and Harry did so with a nod in thanks. Severus shut the door behind him and crossed over to his desk, retrieving a piece of parchment and presenting it to Harry. “I know it is not the formal date to show off exam results, but, with the headmaster’s permission, I believed that showing you this was appropriate.”

Harry took ahold of the offered piece of parchment the man had given him, and gazed down upon it. It was his potions OWL, and, at the top of the page where the grade was, there was an ‘O’ for Outstanding. Harry, meanwhile, knew he would have been lucky to receive an ‘E’ for Exceeds Expectations, so the ‘O’ was shocking to say the least.

“Oh,” he said. “Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, well,” the man said, gently taking the parchment back and vanishing it to his desk. “All good things have to come to an end.”

Harry blinked, permitting himself to look up at the man. “Sir?”

“You now qualify for Advanced Potions next term,” the man explained patiently. “This means that it will become all the more difficult for me to bully you.”

Harry’s brows came together at that. “I had thought there was an agreement in place for you to stop the juvenile behavior, sir.”

Severus’s lips twitched in amusement at that, and he nodded. “There was, and there is. It shall be in effect until your graduation in two years.”

Harry nodded. “Very well, then. If that was all...”

“Harry,” Severus said, effectively stopping Harry’s retreat from his classroom. “Please don’t go rushing off again.”

Harry sighed. “There is nothing more to discuss, sir.”

“Harry, I hate to disagree with you, but there are a great many things to discuss, as there are some unspoken matters between the two of us.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders slacking then. “You have made it abundantly clear that there is naught left to discuss,” he said softly. “I am grateful that you managed to get Umbridge sacked, based not only upon her treatment of me, but my peers as well. Perhaps sixth-year will be much better than this one,” he said, and moved to leave a second time.

“Harry, wait.”

“Yes, professor?” he asked, looking up at him.

“How is your familiar? Hedwig, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “She is doing much better under Hagrid’s care. He mentioned something about Healing Potions. I assume I have you to thank for that.”

“No thanks are necessary, Harry,” Severus assured him. “Umbridge was a bully who doesn’t deserve any positions of power, especially over children. I do hope that, one day, Hedwig will fly again and be as good as new.”

“Short bursts, for now, according to Hagrid. He said I may see her fly today. Apparently, she is getting too cooped up in that hut, and is itching to go out for a hunt.”

Severus chuckled. “She’ll bring you back a fat, juicy mouse as soon as she is able to do so without straining herself. I’m sure of it.”

“Yes, and eat it outright,” Harry said, responding to the man’s laughter, which he found was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He checked himself then, before shaking his head, and lowered his eyes; he mustn’t allow himself to become too familiar with the man, lest his heart be risked again, he mustn’t.

“Harry?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell me, is there anything else bothering you?”

Harry permitted himself to look up again. “No. Why should there be?”

Severus quickly stiffened at the coldness of his tone. “I... Because I believe that you have permitted yourself to act a certain way, these past weeks, for my sake.”

Harry swallowed. “And what if your assumption turned out to be true?”

“I would order you to stop it at once.”

Harry shook his head. “I cannot do that, sir. I will not.”

“Why, Harry? Why won’t you be yourself?”

“Because to be myself is to admit to things that I am not fully sure of,” the young man said, his voice threatening to break then. “And then, there is the notion of feelings not being reciprocated, and treading into dangerous waters. Not only for ethical reasons, but because of the fact that I promised someone not to bring them up again.”

Severus sighed. “Harry...”

“Please, don’t,” Harry said softly. “I will no longer risk my sanity, nor your feelings on the matter. I won’t.”

“Harry...”

“Please,” Harry whispered, interrupting him. “Thank you for permitting me to see my potions grade early, it means a lot to me.”

“Harry, you don’t understand...”

“I understand plenty,” Harry said firmly, cutting across the older man. “You mean too much to me for me not to,” he said, almost as if it was an afterthought, before he ran out of the potions classroom, ignoring the man’s attempts to call him back.


	6. Fall By the Wayside

It had been a fortnight since Severus had told Harry what his OWL grade had been for potions, and, in the interim, he found himself continuing to help Hagrid get Hedwig well; spending as much time with Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Ginny, as possible; and bemoaning the notion that he would have to return to Number 4 Privet Drive that summer. He kept the thoughts on the final matter to himself; he didn’t want to place a burden of thought onto Ron, Hermione, or Ginny, and he’d given Draco snippets of information why he didn’t wish to return to Surrey, with Ginny considerately filling in the blanks on his behalf, with his full permission.

He awoke on the third Saturday of the month and opened the curtains in his dorm, not at all surprised to see that Neville, Dean, and Seamus had gone, likely wanting to meet up with Luna, Susan, and Lavender respectively. With Seamus living in County Clare in Ireland and Lavender living in the elite area of Chelsea in London, it would likely prove difficult for them to see one another during the summer. As for Neville, he hailed from Yorkshire, and Luna from Devon, reportedly a stone’s throw away from the Burrow, so it likely would prove difficult for them to see one another as well. As for Dean, he lived in Hampstead, and Susan in Cornwall, the five-hour journey would prove to be difficult as well.

To his surprise, Ron was not in the dorm either and, upon checking his watch, saw that it was after eight. They’d likely all trooped down to breakfast, so Harry got into the shower and hastily dressed himself, not wanting to miss any opportunities to be with his friends. Although the Dursleys had significantly backed off throughout the last handful of summers, he didn’t fancy going back at all. They barely permitted to let Hedwig out, or communicate with anyone outside the family—not that they did so with him overmuch—and, suffice it to say, nutrition didn’t really apply to Harry over the summers he’d been forced to return to Surrey.

Harry got out of the shower and dried himself off, pulling on a pair of nondescript slacks and a short-sleeved shirt for the Chudley Cannons. He tied the laces of his trainers before leaving the dorm and pocketed his wand, making his way through the empty common room before leaving by way of the portrait. It was an uneventful walk down the staircase and towards the Great Hall, where the buzzing of various conversations seemed to reach a crescendo as he stepped inside, and all eyes turned to look at him.

Harry was promptly swarmed by Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco, who immediately pulled him to the Gryffindor table before more of a crowd could attempt to surround him. As he was thrown into a seat, Harry barely had time to register what was happening as Hermione tossed that day’s copy of _The Daily Prophet_ into his waiting hands. Confused, Harry met Hermione’s eyes, only for her to impatiently click her tongue and nod for him to read the front page.

_Fudge Admits to Dark Lord’s Return; Pettigrew Captured_.

Harry dropped the paper onto the surface of the table and got to his feet, running out of there as fast as he could. He dashed out the main doors and into the sunshine, which was currently bathing the Hogwarts grounds, and ran all the way down to the lake. He was thankful to see that no one else was about as he reached its banks, and let out a scream then as he fell to his knees. He couldn’t believe it; Pettigrew, one of Riddle’s closest confidants—although he had admittedly searched for him out of fear, not loyalty—was officially in the hands of the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement where he belonged.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up then, spotting Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco, and was slightly bewildered that they had all followed him. However, he somehow managed to get shakily to his feet, and dragged a hand through his hair. “Sorry...”

“Don’t be sorry, mate,” Ron said quickly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Harry, it’s all right,” Ginny said gently, stepping forward and squeezing his arm.

“The rat was _always_ a right git,” Draco put in.

Hermione stepped forward and embraced Harry then, holding him close, barely registering and not at all acknowledging the tears which went onto her summer blouse. “Harry, would it be better if I read the article to you?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Harry said immediately.

“Very well.” Hermione gently pulled back from Harry then, enlarging some of the stones along the river bed with added Cushioning Charms so as they could all sit together; she made two of them slightly larger, so as she could sit with Ron, and Ginny could sit with Draco. Hermione then unfolded _The Prophet_ then, and began to read the article. “‘In a statement issued by the DMLE’s own Kingsley Shacklebolt this morning, it had been officially confirmed that former follower of You-Know-Who, Peter Pettigrew, has been captured by that department. Although Auror Shacklebolt refused to comment overmuch, he has confirmed that Pettigrew refused to crumble under intense questioning, and so Veritaserum was utilized to obtain the information necessary to add charges to the thus far elusive man’s name. Pettigrew, an unregistered Animagus who lived in the care of the ministry’s own Weasley family for twelve years—first as the rat familiar of one Percy Weasley, personal assistant to Minister Fudge, and secondly, to Ronald Weasley, Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and best friend of Harry Potter—was seen only as a common garden rat, who, despite his apparent longevity, was a beloved family pet to both sons of the Weasley family. It was during the events of thought-to-be mass murderer Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and ultimate hiding out in an undisclosed location two years ago that Pettigrew revealed himself to a select few before making his escape to find You-Know-Who. It has also been confirmed by Auror Shacklebolt that an advanced task force of Aurors—among them Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody and Nymphadora Tonks—managed to track down Pettigrew when the latter grew sloppy in some of his spell work, due to a trace on his wand, placed there by the information sent by one Draco Malfoy. After questioning, it was realized that it was Pettigrew, not Black, that betrayed the Potter family back in October of 1981, and Pettigrew was immediately taken to Azkaban Prison awaiting trial. It is therefore suspected that Sirius Black will promptly be pardoned for the acts he has thought to have committed for over fifteen years, which will mean a much safer Wizarding World, now that one of You-Know-Who’s most loyal followers is now behind bars, where this reporter believes he deserves to be for a long, long time.’”

“Who... Who wrote it?” Harry managed to ask.

“Skeeter, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Can’t believe that witch actually wrote the truth,” Hermione whispered, folding up the paper and leaning into Ron’s side.

“Harry,” Ginny asked tentatively, looking him over, “you all right?”

“He’s in shock, Gin,” Draco told her gently.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Harry informed them all with a shaky nod. “I... I guess I just never thought that this day would come, you know?”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione told him. “Of course, the process of elimination isn’t difficult to consider here...”

Harry blinked, looking up at her. “Process of elimination?”

“Well, of course,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Naturally, once the charges stick to Pettigrew, he’ll be charged in lieu of Sirius, which means that Sirius’s name can officially be cleared by the Wizengamot.”

“And once Sirius’s name is cleared,” Ron said, nearly cutting across Hermione in his apparent excitement, “your parents’ stipulations for guardianship will be taken seriously!”

Harry shook his head. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Ron,” he said softly.

“Why not?” Draco wanted to know.

Harry sighed, shoulders slacking. “Because I’m me,” he replied. “Sooner or later, all positive thoughts come to an end, and things come crashing down.”

~*~

It was front-page news yet again five days later when Peter Pettigrew was formally put into Azkaban under charges of thirteen counts of murder with the Blasting Curse, along with giving up information to Riddle about the whereabouts of James and Lily Potter. Harry, having remembered that Sirius had been sentenced to life imprisonment, suspected that a similar sentence would be employed for Pettigrew. As he trudged along the Hogwarts grounds, he came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, surprised to see a certain someone just about to enter through the darkening trees himself. Although they were quite close to Hagrid’s hut, it was not the half-giant who lurked there, but the potions master.

“Sir,” Harry said, nodding his head in greeting.

“Harry,” Severus replied.

“What brings you here?” he asked, although he saw a small basket upon Severus’s arm, so he had a pretty good guess.

“Cultivation,” Severus told him, his tone patient. “This is the best time of year to obtain some daylilies, if you know where to look.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I see.”

Severus inclined his head. “If you are not too busy, perhaps you would like to join me. I’m gathering them for Professor Sprout so as she can potentially utilize them in a manner so as they last for more than a day.”

Harry was slightly taken aback by the proposal, but nodded at the man. “Yes, thank you. I’d like to go,” he told him.

Severus nodded. “Very well.” He turned around then, his summer black robes billowing out behind him, the scent of sandalwood and oregano filling his nostrils and causing him to stumble ever so slightly at the entrance of the forest. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to keep his footing and followed the professor, making his way around the massive tree roots, not wanting to go sprawling and potentially hurt himself or the man.

“Do you have a favorite flower, sir?” Harry asked, wondering if the question was stupid or not, but wanting to know the answer.

“Peonies,” Severus said softly, making his way around a particularly massive tree, still keeping a good grip upon his basket. “Your mother was the last person to ask me that.” He turned slightly to Harry then, and regarded him for a moment. “What is yours?”

“Oh, um, Gladiolus,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Aunt Petunia kept a rather large bed of them in her back garden. I was tasked with watering them regularly if there was no significant rain in the area. I only knew what they were called because of her copies of _BBC Gardeners’ World_ that she’d leave around the house. If they weren’t around, I’d like to look at the pictures and read about tips for watering and such...”

“And if they were around?”

“Aunt Petunia would beat me with it,” Harry replied, hunching himself inwards then, not really up to discussing his regular beatings. “Didn’t want the freak touching her things.”

Severus’s lips thinned considerably at that. “Yes, I see.” He sighed then as they came to a glen in the center of the woods, where his prize awaited them. “As you may remember, I, too had a difficult upbringing,” he said quietly, kneeling before the patch of daylilies and removing a knife from his pocket.

Harry stood there rather helplessly, unknowing how he was supposed to react to the statement. “I do, sir. Yes,” he managed to get out.

Severus turned and look at him briefly for a moment, gave him a small smile, and set the small basket onto the ground before getting to work. “Don’t continue to beat yourself up about your accident, Harry,” the man said softly, gently cutting the stems of the flowers and laying them gently into the basket. “You’ve certainly apologized enough for a thousand lifetimes. I’m just sorry that I didn’t see it as a simple mistake beforehand.”

“You were hurt and vulnerable,” Harry said, his tone not accusatory in any way. “I don’t know how I would have reacted, but...”

Severus hesitated in his cutting then, and Harry silenced himself. “I had been throwing you around in your lesson beforehand, Harry,” he whispered, “and saying deplorable things. Even I knew then that you weren’t anything like James was. I should have separated the two of you, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to do so fully then.”

Harry watched the man a few feet away from him then and, when he made no move to speak further, saw that Severus returned to his task of cutting the daylilies from their stocks. “I think that you and I both made errors in judgement throughout the years,” he remarked at last.

Severus gave a nod as he continued with his task. “Yes, I believe you are correct in that assumption, Harry.” He hesitated for a moment, slipping some more flowers into the basket, before he continued, “I resolve to fully apologize for my errors in future.”

“There is no need,” Harry said softly, stepping forward, and kneeling beside the man, before he reached out to take the flowers from him. “You’ve done more than enough already.”

Severus smirked slightly then, but there was no animosity behind it. “And how did you find Rita Skeeter’s article?”

Harry sighed. “Can’t believe she isn’t all bad after all.”

“Oh, she’ll continue to do what she must to sell papers, Harry, never doubt that,” Severus told him, with no ill-will in his voice. “Are you pleased at Pettigrew’s arrest?”

Harry gave a small smile and nodded, putting the flowers into the basket at Severus painstakingly handed them over to him. “Of course. Perhaps now the pardon will actually stick and Sirius can walk free.”

Severus sighed. “Yes.”

Harry bit his lip. “Look, I... I will never condone what went on between the two of you in school, as well as what happened with my father. I won’t. I just want you to know that.”

Severus gave a small smile. “Thank you, Harry, but you mustn’t apologize for what happened to me because it was not your fault.”

“Then let me apologize on behalf of the Potters,” Harry said quickly, wanting some form of apology to happen on his end that day. “I know I had no hand in what went on that day, or the many other days that you were tormented by the Marauders, but by Merlin, you know as well as I do that you didn’t deserve it.”

“Did I, Harry?”

Harry blinked, and turned to face the man. “What?”

“Didn’t I deserve it?”

Harry sighed. “Both you and Dumbledore have told me that you didn’t take the mark until after graduation when you were recruited by Lucius Malfoy,” he said, and found that he recalled the conversation quite well. “And, if I may say so, you had done nothing to provoke any of them. If it had to do with so-called Blood Purity, then my father was a fucking hypocrite, considering he fell in love with and married my mother.”

“Language, Harry,” Severus reprimanded him gently. “Nevertheless, even though I had not yet obtained the mark, I was interested in the Dark Arts. So much so that that, combined with the deplorable word I called your mother, caused me to lose the only friend I ever had.”

“Not anymore,” Harry stated.

Severus blinked, and turned to look at Harry. “What?”

“Clearly, you are friends with Dumbledore, so that’s one,” Harry said, putting some more flowers into the basket. “McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout are two, three, and four. You have a knack for discipline and the rules, like McGonagall, so that’s two. You like discussing magic and spell work like Flitwick, which brings you to three. And you team up with Sprout with such things like where herbology meets potions, so that is four.”

“Four friends,” Severus said darkly. “Lovely.”

“And I know that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley like you very much, and would likely consider you friends as well,” Harry continued, “so there’s five and six. And I don’t know if they consider you friends, but Remus, Kingsley, and Moody all trust you...”

“Because Dumbledore does,” Severus put in.

“Well, doesn’t matter,” Harry said pointedly. “Seven friends.”

“Seven?” Severus said, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t take Arithmancy like Miss Granger, Harry, but I assume maths were taught at that Muggle school you attended before your education at Hogwarts began...”

“I didn’t mess up in my addition, sir,” Harry said softly, “I was merely counting myself in that group of friends.”

Severus whipped around to face Harry then, shocked. “You... You would count yourself among my friends?”

“Of course,” Harry replied. “Draco, too, which means eight.”

Severus shook his head. “Why would you even...?”

“Because you deserve friendship, and I would be honored to be counted among your friends, Severus Snape,” Harry said softly, reaching out to take another bunch of flowers, only for him to draw back then, as Severus’s knife had nicked him. “Merlin!” he hissed through his teeth, clutching at his hand.

“Harry!” Severus cried out then, dropping his knife and the flowers he’d been holding, and took ahold of Harry’s wrist. “Are you all right?”

Harry nodded, heart thundering in his chest at the notion that the very object of his affections was, once again, touching him in some way. “Yeah, I... I’ll be fine,” he managed to get out, quickly realizing that the knife was sharper than he’d originally anticipated.

Severus looked as if he was contemplating something for a moment and, when one thought came to him further, he seemed to fight against it until, ultimately, he came to his decision. He drew Harry’s finger close to him then, and, amid Harry’s eyes widening, eyebrows raising, and ultimately gasping, Severus took Harry’s finger into his mouth. Severus then proceeded to lap at the blood that had gathered there, and Harry felt even more blood rushing to his cock at what the man was doing to him.

“Sir...” He whispered; his voice was husky, and it was plain to see that he was aroused as the man’s tongue laved the sensitive pad of his index finger over and over again. Finally, the man slowly eased his lips backwards then, and his finger appeared to be healed. And then, as yet another gasp escaped from Harry’s lips, he watched as Severus lifted his hand then, and pressed a small kiss into his palm.

“Harry...”

“Sir...” Harry whispered back.

Severus’s onyx eyes locked to his. “Harry,” he repeated.

Harry felt a deep flush blooming on his cheeks. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and even though he wanted it to happen again—and more besides—he knew that he was misreading the signals entirely. The man had been in love with his mother, and he had made it abundantly clear that, not only was he not interested, but all of his actions connected to his love for his mother and for the good of the Wizarding World.

“I... I promised Ron and Hermione I’d meet them,” Harry said quickly, launching to his feet, and systematically pulling his wrist from Severus’s grasp.

Severus moved to his feet as well. “Harry...”

“No, please, don’t follow me,” Harry said, and rushed back off through the forest, tears in his eyes, not wanting to dwell on all that had happened.

~*~

Another five days had come and gone, and the only time Harry had seen Severus directly was in potions class. They were mainly reviewing and, for those who had gotten O’s on their OWLs, who included Hermione and Draco, were given advanced material to brush up upon for the following term. Harry had barely been sleeping, and only managed to keep his head above water with Hermione’s notes and Draco’s nudges to pay attention.

The final day of term had finally arrived and Harry dragged himself out of bed; he had packed most of his belongings now, and was set to gather Hedwig before the train came to collect him from Hogsmeade Station the following day. He was not looking forward to returning to Surrey, but he knew his days were numbered there as it was. He arrived in the Great Hall in time for breakfast, knowing that the house-elves were saving their best efforts for the leaving feast the following day. While the final three days of term were mandatory for attendance, there were no classes, and were merely formalities to gather final marks and to prepare yourself for the following term.

Harry plunked himself down at the Gryffindor table, noticing that Draco and Ginny were lovingly whispering to one another, as per usual, while Ron and Hermione sent Harry several worried glances as he put scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, and a couple of rashers onto his plate. Looking up at them as he began to eat, he noted that there seemed to be something unspoken between the two of them, and he was determined to find out what. As he swallowed his first bite, however, he felt something upon him then and, looking up at the head table, saw that Dumbledore was looking at him rather fondly, and smiled.

“Harry?”

Harry turned and regarded Hermione then. “Yeah?”

“Glad that summer is coming?” she asked, although her tone was uneasy.

Harry shrugged. “You know me. Hogwarts is my home. I don’t like going to Surrey more than I have to. This is when I have to, unfortunately.”

“Dumbledore has to do something, mate,” Ron put in, speaking around his sausages, and ignored Hermione’s glare. “With Sirius getting pardoned and all that...”

Harry shook his head, spooning more breakfast into his own mouth. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for anything to change about my summer living situation, Ron,” he told him. It was a great surprise when, a moment later, Hedwig herself in all her snowy glory came flying into the Great Hall, and Harry’s jaw dropped at how mended she appeared. She landed with grace upon the Gryffindor table, and Harry immediately gave her nibbles of his rashers as he took the letter that she had brought to him.

_Harry—_

_Please come to my office as soon as you’ve finished breakfast, and do feel free to bring Mr. and Miss Weasley, as well as Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy._

_You will find that the password is pumpkin pasties._

_Signed,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

“Everything all right, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry looked up then, smiling at Hedwig, who hooted, and flew off, presumably back to the owlery for the day. “No idea,” he admitted, pocketing the letter. “We’re all summoned to Dumbledore’s office after breakfast.”

“All of us?” asked Hermione, her porridge spoon suspended, halfway to her mouth.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Even Ginny and Draco.”

“Count us in,” Draco said, and tossed a smile across the table at Harry.

Ginny nodded, swallowing a bite of toast. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she assured him.

The five teenagers left the Great Hall shortly thereafter, climbing the proper staircases to the headmaster’s office, while the two couples among them chattered to themselves. Harry took the lead of the pack, not wanting to interrupt them, but also desperately wanting to know what this out of nowhere meeting was really about. Bracing himself, he said the password upon arrival, and the gargoyle immediately jumped out of the way, leaving the five of them to hop onto the revolving staircase and make their way towards the door.

Harry knocked then, and found that he was trembling.

“Come in, all of you,” called Dumbledore’s voice.

Harry stepped inside the headmaster’s office first, Ron and Hermione just behind, and Ginny and Draco bringing up the rear. He almost immediately stopped in his tracks then at the sight before him, which caused Ron to grab ahold of Hermione, and Draco of Ginny, to prevent anyone from unnecessarily toppling into one another. There, standing just beside Dumbledore’s desk was none other than Sirius Black.

“Sirius!” Harry cried out then, dashing forward, and throwing himself into the man’s arms, feeling surrounded by love, protection, and affection.

“Harry,” Sirius said fondly, holding onto him for a moment, before letting him go. “I wanted you to know about it officially in person.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“I’m free,” Sirius told him. “Well and truly free.”

Harry turned immediately to Dumbledore then, and shook his head. “Why would you dangle him in front of me like this?” he asked, his voice very close to breaking.

Sirius visibly stiffened. “Harry...”

“No, please, let me speak, Sirius,” he said, stepping forward. “Why would you have Sirius come here, and announce his freedom to me personally, only for me to be banished to Surrey, when I should be in Islington, at Grimmauld, with him?”

“Nobody is dangling anyone before you, dear boy,” Dumbledore said softly, and got to his feet, his eyes twinkling. He reached down onto his desk then, and held up a piece of parchment, and held it before Harry. “Read it.”

Harry reached out then and snatched the parchment away from the meddling old man, and bent his head slightly to read it. “The Last Will and Testament of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Josephine Evans-Potter,” he said, his heart immediately thundering from within his breast. “It is decreed by us, the Potters, being of sound mind, upon the occasion of the birth of our son, Harry James Potter, on the thirty-first of July 1980, that we bequeath, in the event of our deaths, sole custody of him to Sirius Black. We absolutely will not have him under the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. If Sirius Black is either unwilling or unable to take custody of Harry, we want custody to go directly to Remus John Lupin. Signed by James Potter and Lily Evans-Potter, and witnessed by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...” Harry broke off then, his eyes swimming with tears, as he slowly raised his eyes to the headmaster’s. “I... I don’t understand any of this,” he whispered. “What does this all mean?”

“It means you don’t have to go back to Little Whinging, Harry,” said Hermione from behind him, and he could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Is that true?” he whispered, having never taken his eyes from Dumbledore’s face. “I never have to see Vernon, Petunia, or Dudley again?”

“No, Harry, you don’t,” Dumbledore said gently. “We’ve contacted Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour, who considerately took some time away from Gringotts to put some permanent blood wards onto Grimmauld Place,” he explained. “As such, Grimmauld, with the blood wards and the Fidelus Charm, is the most safe it’s ever been.”

“I’ve just been from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement myself,” Sirius went on, and Harry’s eyes snapped to his, “and all the paperwork is in order.”

Harry blinked. “Paperwork?”

“To dissolve guardianship from Vernon and Petunia and transfer it to me, where it should have been, after the events of 31 October 1981,” Sirius said softly. “As such, when term is officially over tomorrow, you’re coming home with me, Harry. We’re off to Grimmauld, which should have been your home years ago.”

“Hedwig?” Harry managed to get out, as his throat was threatening to close up from all the emotions, hitting him like Bludgers.

“Hedwig was welcomed at Grimmauld before the guardianship took effect, Harry, and she will be welcomed there for as long as you consider it your home,” Sirius told him. “You will have your own bedroom—I had the Curse Breakers take my mother’s awful portrait down, and take care of the Boggart in the master, so it’s mine now. You will have everything you deserve from now until the guardianship dissolves when you reach the age of seventeen, although I do expect that you continue your education here and make NEWTs.”

Harry nodded then, grinning so hard that he felt as if his face would burst. “I will. Of course I will!” he cried out then, and launched himself into Sirius’s arms again. “T... Tomorrow?” he asked, pulling back slightly then, hoping that none of this was a dream.

Sirius smiled down at him. “Tomorrow, Harry,” he assured him, holding him close once again, and Harry immediately snuggled closer. “Tomorrow we go home.”

~*~

True to his word, Sirius, who had remained at Hogwarts for the evening, was there before Harry typically boarded the carriages to take him to the train. They were to utilize the Floo Network in the headmaster’s office, so as to make the journey much quicker. After hugs and farewells from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco—who all made him promise to write as soon as possible—Harry journeyed upstairs with his trunk, Hedwig’s cage, and Hedwig, who rode along on his shoulder, quite pleased with herself. She would be given instructions on how to fly to Grimmauld from Hogwarts, in case she had forgotten, as Sirius and Dumbledore had both agreed that she wouldn’t enjoy the Floo.

Upon stepping into the office, Sirius took his trunk and cage and immediately shrunk them both down, while Dumbledore spoke to Hedwig about the journey, and the owl hooted excitedly at the prospect of it all. Harry said goodbye to her, before Dumbledore opened his office window and permitted her to fly along the grounds in the direction of London. Turning back then, he smiled at Harry and Sirius, who stood close together.

“I am sorry, Sirius, and you will never know how much, that circumstances prevented Harry from going home with you immediately,” he said softly.

Sirius sighed, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “None of that matters now, Albus. For what does matter is that Harry is coming home with me now.”

“You’re all right with this, then, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to go home.”

Dumbledore smiled at him. “Very well, then. Onward, my boys.”

Sirius turned around then, and handed Harry the pot of Floo Powder. “Do say it clearly, Harry,” he said with a smile. “Molly told me of your mishap shortly before second-year.”

Harry rolled his eyes and took the handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace, and shouted for Grimmauld Place, before the flames flashed green and swallowed him up. He was tossed out into the living room at Grimmauld a moment later, and immediately got to his feet and drew back, not wanting Sirius to literally plow into him upon arrival. Sirius arrived just a moment later and drew his wand out from his pocket, which Harry presumed he had been allowed back in the wake of his pardon.

“ _Tergeo_ ,” he said then, and managed to get the soot off from both of them. “There, now, much better, I think... Kreacher!” he called.

There was a crack from somewhere in the house then, following by small footsteps upon the creaking floorboards, and the aging house-elf arrived into the living room. “Master Sirius has called for Kreacher?” he asked, and Harry noted that the ancient elf sounded much more respectful than he had the summer before. “Ah. Master Sirius has brought Master Harry home with him at last.”

“Yes, Kreacher, Harry has returned to us,” Sirius said, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders again, and Harry found he could become used to the treatment. “Harry will be spending all of his summer holidays and school vacations here from now on. Since I was pardoned by the ministry from any wrongdoing, Kreacher, Harry is now under my wardship, which means that he is my heir, should I decide not to take a wife and have children of my own. As such, you will treat him like a member of the House of Black, and be respectful towards him at all times. You will learn his likes and dislikes, as you have learned mine, as well as his habits. I assume his friends will be coming and going as well, and you will respect them, especially Miss Granger, for as the brightest witch of her age, she is far more intelligent than even myself.”

“Yes, Master Sirius,” said Kreacher, and he looked truly humbled by the man’s words, as his eyes slid onto Harry. “Can Kreacher do anything for Master Harry?”

Harry smiled at him. “Not at the moment, thank you Kreacher. But you should know that I favor sandwiches and treacle tart.”

The elf looked shocked that Harry would so readily give up this piece of information, but bowed his head nevertheless. “Yes, Master Harry.”

“I also like to spend my time flying my Firebolt,” he went on, which Hermione had considerately shrunk for him and placed carefully in his trunk, “or reading. I’m finding that I have a flair for potions,” he said with a chuckle, and Sirius looked surprised at this particular tidbit. “I also enjoy writing to my friends—Ron and Ginny Weasley, plus Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy. I will need plenty of ink and parchment around, but I’ve my own owl, Hedwig, who I am sure you remember.”

“Master Harry’s owl is a lovely creature,” Kreacher said softly.

“I will also wish to spend some time with Witherwings,” Harry continued, hoping that he was not overstepping boundaries. “He is a dear friend of mine, and I will enjoy living under the same roof as the winged creature.”

Kreacher bowed his head. “Anything else Kreacher should know, Master Harry?”

Harry turned to Sirius, who gestured outwards then, letting Harry know that he had the floor, and that Kreacher was his to command however he liked. Harry hoped that this didn’t mean discipline, and hoped against hope that Sirius had done away with the house-elf heads which had been mounted to the wall, generation upon generation, which had shocked him, disgusted Hermione, and sickened Ron.

“No, thank you, Kreacher,” he said at last, and plastered a smile onto his face. “That will be all for now, thank you,” he said again, knowing that no amount of ‘thank-you’s’ could ever make up for the harsh treatment that house-elves had suffered throughout the centuries. Harry continued smiling at Kreacher as he bowed and departed from their company, and Sirius squeezed his shoulder, letting him know that he was welcome to head upstairs and get his things where he wanted them, as well as to settle in. Harry nodded at the man—his godfather, his guardian—and gave him a smile as well, before he turned around and headed up the stairs, knowing that he would be happy there, and, considering that he would never have to darken the doorway of Number 4 Privet Drive again, he would likely be happier overall.


	7. Fall Into the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Ron Weasley!
> 
> Okay... On with the show!

Harry had settled into Grimmauld surprisingly quickly, and was dubbed “the young master” or “the young prince” by Kreacher almost immediately. The house-elf seemed to like that there was someone young to serve, and, by the same token, seemed to be quite eager to learn all about Harry’s likes, dislikes, habits, and hobbies. He was constantly bowing to Harry, and while it took a little getting used to, he heard from Ron via letter that house-elves liked that sort of thing. It was on the occasion of July formally dawning that he had an unexpected visitor in the form of Dobby, who threw himself at Harry, as per usual.

“Hey, Dobby,” Harry said, patting his head.

“Headmaster Dumbledore sends Dobby with a note for great Master Harry Potter, sir!” the little elf cried out, and held out the piece of parchment.

Harry took ahold of the parchment and looked it over for a moment before opening it up, while Dobby still clung to his legs.

_Harry—_

_I do hope this summer finds you well, when you are finally in your proper home._

_As an early birthday present and with Dobby’s full agreement, I’ve released him from service to Hogwarts, as he would rather make a home with you at Grimmauld. It appears as if young Dobby thinks of you as his master, and I wouldn’t wish to have him saddened. If you agree to this, then, by all means, retain him into your service._

_I will see you later this evening, during the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, scheduled to meet in the kitchen. Now that you are a permanent resident of the household and under Sirius’s guardianship, I doubt you will be excluded._

_Signed,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

“Dobby,” Harry said carefully, and the elf detached himself Harry’s legs to look up at him. “Do you truly want to be my house-elf?”

“Yes, great Master Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby crowed. “Dobby _always_ wants to help and serve great Master Harry Potter!”

Harry chuckled. “Very well, then,” he said, getting to his feet. “Kreacher is preparing a feast in the kitchens for the order meeting this evening. Why don’t you go and help him?”

“Yes, Master Harry!” he cried, throwing himself at Harry’s legs again, before he vanished with a sudden crack.

Harry chuckled, putting the note from Dumbledore into his pocket as he moved out of the library and down the stairs. He could hear Sirius speaking to someone via the Floo Network, and assumed that it was Remus, due to be there later that evening. He was just concluding the call as Harry stepped into the living room, and gave his godson a smile.

“You look happier,” he observed.

“Dumbledore’s sent an early birthday gift,” Harry replied.

“Oh?” Sirius asked. “What is it?”

“Well...” Harry began.

“Dobby only wanted to help!” came a shriek from the kitchen.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said, and took off, Sirius at his heels, and threw open the kitchen door, and saw Dobby cowering in a corner, with Kreacher holding a cleaver aloft.

“Kreacher!” Sirius shouted, and Kreacher promptly took on a straight-backed stance, and lowered the massive knife.

Harry stepped forward then, beckoning to a frightened Dobby, and the younger elf promptly threw himself around Harry’s legs. “Are you all right?” he asked him, looking him over for injuries. “Did Kreacher hurt you?”

“Just Dobby’s feelings, great Master Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said, wiping tears from his eyes and cowering into Harry’s shins.

“Kreacher,” said Sirius, his tone firm, “what happened?”

“Dobby touched Kreacher’s things,” came the drawl of the older elf.

Sirius turned to Harry, and noticed that Dobby looked plenty frightened. “Harry, am I to assume that Dumbledore bequeathed Dobby to you for your birthday?”

Harry nodded, absentmindedly stroking the elf’s head. “Yes. I didn’t think that him being here would upset anyone...”

“It certainly doesn’t upset me,” Sirius said, smiling at Dobby, who returned one to Sirius, albeit in a tentative manner, before turning back to Kreacher. “Kreacher, as Dobby is now Harry’s elf, you will treat him with the utmost respect, as befits a member of the family, which you both are, from this moment. Dobby is still quite young, and I am sure that he can learn from you, but you should also know that he once served the Malfoy family.”

Kreacher appeared interested in this. “Did Dobby serve the Malfoys?” he asked.

Dobby nodded fiercely, his ears flapping. “Dobby served them, despite the death threats five times a day,” he whimpered, and Harry immediately stroked his ears, which readily seemed to calm the poor thing. “Dobby was saved by great Master Harry Potter, and was freed from former Master Malfoy...”

Kreacher considered this for a moment. “Kreacher understands.”

“Do you, Kreacher?” Harry demanded.

Sirius placed a hand upon Harry’s arm, knowing that an all-out row was not the best way to solve their differences. “I am quite positive Kreacher does understand,” he assured him with a small smile. “Kreacher, you will treat Dobby like one of the family, and permit him to help you with things around the house. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” Kreacher replied, bowing low. “Kreacher longs to serve the House of Black,” he said, his voice that of a drawl.

“Now that that’s settled,” Sirius said, watching as Dobby detached himself from Harry’s legs and proceeded to assist Kreacher once more, “we’ve got a great many things to do before we have the meeting tonight.”

Harry sighed, and proceeded to trudge back out into the living room with a heavy heart. “Like locking me up in my bedroom?”

Sirius immediately shook his head as he moved to follow his godson. “Of course I don’t intend upon locking you up in your bedroom, Harry. While you’re under my guardianship, you will attend order meetings as long as I and you see fit.”

Harry blinked, turning to look up at the man. “I get to attend the meeting tonight?” he asked, shaking his head. “But what about Mrs. Weasley? She doesn’t want me to...”

“As much as I value Molly’s friendship and opinions, Harry, I will not have her barring you from a meeting being held in your own home,” Sirius said firmly, squeezing the young man’s shoulder. “She considers you a son, and I thank Merlin that there are others out there who love you. However, the decision falls to me, as your guardian, and I say that you can attend.”

Harry grinned, practically bouncing up and down on his heels in a moment of excitement at the prospect of being treated as an adult and an equal. “Will Ron be here, too?” he asked.

Sirius laughed at that. “I don’t know about Ron attending the meeting itself, or any of them until he reaches seventeen, but Ron is actually visiting Hermione. She wanted to introduce him to her parents officially as her boyfriend, and now seemed an appropriate time.”

Harry stopped his bouncing and turned serious for a moment, wanting to be diplomatic about his further questioning. “Ron can come and visit sometime, though, can’t he?”

“Of course Ron can come and visit, Harry,” Sirius assured him, and smiled down at him readily, knowing that he would acquiesce to nearly anything Harry wanted. “With or without Hermione, as well as Ginny and Draco, or Neville and Luna, if you’d like. Remember, this is your home, too.”

Harry had been relieved following his conversation with Sirius, and spent the next several hours helping the man get ready for the meeting. Of course, with Kreacher cooking and Dobby cleaning, there wasn’t much to do other than showering and dressing themselves. Harry found he was feeling slightly nervous about attending the meeting, given that Severus was a member of the order as well, and would likely be there to give a report on the Death Eater meeting that Sirius had mentioned he had been summoned for just after the leaving feast.

Harry settled on some informal slacks, a button-down shirt, and a cardigan for the meeting that evening, wanting to look as smart as possible. He was due to turn sixteen at the end of the month, and he knew that a lot was riding on his shoulders. The blocks within his mind were still quite powerful, as were his magical abilities. He had gotten O’s and E’s in each subject he’d taken in his OWLs, and Sirius couldn’t have been more proud. Harry knew that Sirius, Remus, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were already discussing ideas for his upcoming birthday, but what he wanted most of all, he knew was impossible to have.

Harry stepped into his new pair of trainers just as he heard the Floo repeatedly going off in the living room downstairs. Sirius had taken him shopping just after he’d gotten settled in the day before, and Sirius remarked on how well Harry looked in clothes that actually fit him. Harry, of course, had been in his element during the shopping spree—in both Diagon Alley and Muggle London—finding out what colors looked good on him for the first time. He discovered just how much he loved the color green, and realized what Hermione had meant during the Yule Ball when she had stated the bottle-green in his dress robes made his eyes pop.

Harry made his way downstairs when he deemed it appropriate to do so, and was promptly pulled into hugs from all sides. Mrs. Weasley first, then Ginny, then Draco, followed by Remus and even Tonks. Ginny, at fourteen, was considered too young to attend the meeting but, since Draco didn’t have any formal guardians at the moment, Severus gave his consent. Ginny, just slightly put out, kissed Draco goodbye and went upstairs to the Black family library, and Harry knew she would find something to read up there.

Harry avoided eye contact with Severus all throughout the meeting, and sat just next to Sirius at the head of the table. Draco sat beside Harry, and Harry realized that the disinherited Malfoy heir was acting more like a guard than a friend. Harry didn’t question it, and instead listened to Dumbledore make plans for the upcoming term, and said that Draco could practice with Harry in some defense measures, now that the blond was on the side of the Light. To Harry’s relief, Draco seemed all for it; however, when it got to the topic of Death Eater meetings, everyone involved, including Harry and Draco, decided it was too much.

Harry promptly excused himself from the meeting, with Draco just behind him, and they immediately decided to go hang out with Ginny in the library. As they climbed the darkened staircase, however, Harry felt Draco place a hand upon his arm and, turning, he regarded his friend. “Is everything okay?” he asked, hoping that he and Ginny hadn’t just been putting on a show earlier and that the pair of them were just as in love as ever.

“Me and Ginny are fine,” Draco assured him, as if following his train of thought. “In all honesty, it’s you I’m worried about.”

Harry blinked. “Me? Why me?”

Draco sighed. “I’ve been attempting to put my finger on it for weeks, but there’s no more hiding it anymore...”

“What?” Harry whispered.

Draco stepped closer then, and dropped his voice to a whisper, in case they had been followed. “I know that you have feelings for Severus,” he whispered back.

Harry felt his entire face heat up then, and he cautiously dragged a hand through his hair. “And you’re going to tell me not to pursue it, or you’ll hex me into next week if I hurt him?”

Draco looked appalled at the suggestion. “No! Merlin, no,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say at all.”

“What were you going to say, then?” Harry whispered.

“Just to be careful,” Draco said, patting his shoulder. “We all know that romances have the chance of ending badly, especially one of a clandestine nature that many won’t approve of. Just be sure of what you want,” he said, and, lowering his eyes, nodded to someone behind them, and went further up the staircase himself.

Harry turned around then, spotting Severus at the base of the stairs, and felt a lump rising in his throat, especially when the man stepped forward. “Not here,” he whispered, and beckoned to him, quickly turning around and heading upstairs. He made his way to his bedroom then and invited Severus inside, before shutting it. He felt a wave of lust then when Severus put up Silencing and Locking Charms so as they would not be disturbed. “All right, I suppose we can speak freely now,” he remarked.

Severus sighed. “Let me just tell you, first and foremost, that I was never in love with your mother, Harry,” the man said.

Harry stumbled backwards then, shocked beyond belief; of all things which could have been said, he was not expecting that one to fall from Severus’s lips. “What? You didn’t love her?”

“No,” Severus replied, “I didn’t. I feel for her the way you feel for Miss Granger. I loved her, but as my dearest friend, a sister.”

Harry shook his head at the man. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I cannot stand you believing such a thing of me,” Severus replied. “I have always had an attraction for men, Harry, never for a woman.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “Just not me, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

Harry immediately looked up at the man. “I fancy you,” he whispered, knowing he had to get the words out there before his courage waned. “I’ve done for a while now, and there’s no calling it back, not anymore.”

Severus gave a slight nod. “I see.”

“I don’t expect you to do or say anything about it,” Harry assured him. “We’ll just go on as we have been. No need for you to cater to the whims of the Boy Who Lived...”

Severus reached out then, and gently tilted his chin up, with Harry shuddering at the physical contact. “Harry, why would you ever believe that your feelings aren’t reciprocated?”

Harry swallowed. “Well, mostly because you hated me since my first-year...”

“I’ve never once hated you, Harry,” Severus told his gently, dragging the pad of his thumb along the younger man’s cheek. “I admit, I acted wholly inappropriately towards you from the start, with the frequent detentions, and the deductions of House points for merely breathing incorrectly, and I will spend the rest of my days apologizing for my abhorrent treatment of you. But, although I am loath to admit it, my feelings for you changed after the graveyard...”

“Loath because you still resented me for who I was?” Harry guessed.

“No, Harry. Loath because I found myself lusting after a child,” he replied.

Harry shook his head, leaning into the hand which cupped his face. “Don’t think that way, please,” he told him softly, never taking his eyes from his. “I haven’t been a child for as long as I can remember, and although I am only fifteen now, I am fully capable of deciding what I want.”

“Harry, perhaps you should think on it...”

“I don’t need to think about it, not anymore, Severus,” Harry declared, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the man without hesitation and kissed him. His heart pounded from within him then as the man’s mouth slowly opened from beneath his, and pulled him lengthwise against the hard body, his tongue tasting the younger man’s.

When Severus finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against Harry’s. “You know that people won’t approve of this.”

Harry sighed. “I know.”

“We will have to keep this quiet, Harry,” the man said gently.

Harry worried his lower lip. “‘This’ being?” he whispered.

Severus reached out then, gently pulling Harry’s lower lip out from between his teeth. “Our relationship,” he whispered, before dipping his head back downwards to kiss Harry again, leaving Harry to stand up upon his toes to meet him, stroke for stroke.

~*~

 _Minister for Magic Sacked_.

It was front-page news in _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_ that Fudge had been sacked from the Ministry of Magic, after Riddle and his followers had attacked several Muggle villages since term had ended at Hogwarts. Apparently, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—which really meant out of the mouths of Moody and Kingsley—was saying that Fudge, while still adamant that Riddle hadn’t returned, and, by extension, hadn’t protected the Muggles appropriately from him, as was his due. Rufus Scrimgeour, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had taken up the mantle of minister, with Pius Thicknesse, who was rumored to be a Death Eater, becoming head of the department.

Harry slammed down his copy of _The Prophet_ and abruptly left the breakfast table, stomping up the stairs and shutting himself up in the library. Sirius, sitting at the head of the table, alongside Remus and Tonks—who were staying at Grimmauld for the time being—looked at one another after Harry’s hasty exit. Tonks was then called to the ministry to plan strategy within the Auror Department, while Remus and Sirius took turns attempting to coax Harry out from the library. However, nothing they said or did worked, and so they ultimately left the teenager alone.

Upon entrance to the library, Harry repeatedly slammed his fists into the ancient bookshelves which were mounted to each wall. A subsequent story in _The Prophet_ that morning had been the rather detailed report of the bloody assassination of Amelia Bones by several unknown assailants. Harry was forever indebted to the woman, especially due to her prominent seat on the Wizengamot, and her influence to get him cleared of all charges in the wake of the Dementor attack upon him and Dudley the summer before. Harry felt embittered by the news, knowing that Riddle and his followers likely had something to do with her untimely death, and knew full well that, the sooner Riddle was eliminated, the better.

Dragging a hand down his face and crossing the room, he knelt before the massive fireplace and tossed in some Floo Powder, calling out for 93½ Diagon Alley, Fred and George’s address. With Draco and Ginny likely glued to each other’s faces, and Ron and Hermione the same at her parents’ house, Harry thought it best to speak to the twins. When the Floo decided to connect to the small flat that Fred and George now resided in, Harry quickly plastered a smile upon his face, but knew that the twins would deduce that it wasn’t convincing.

“Harry! Blimey, mate, you all right?” Fred demanded, staring into the flames.

Harry shrugged. “No, not really,” he admitted.

“I should think not!” George put in, shaking his head. “It was high time for Fudge to get out of office, but not like this...”

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “I have to get out of here,” he said quietly.

“Verity’s ill today,” Fred said quickly. “Come through and help us.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“‘Course,” George replied. “The shops’ heavily warded, of course, and it’ll probably increase business two-fold to have Harry Potter here with us.”

Harry laughed and quickly casted his Patronus, knowing that the wards of Grimmauld Place would cause it not to be detected, and let Sirius know where he was going, and stepped through the Floo and into the twins’ flat. He accepted hugs from the both of them, before they all three headed downstairs to do some rudimentary cleaning before the shop opened. Harry was assigned to work the till, with George tinkering in the back, and Fred popping around the store to make sure the customers had everything they needed.

Ten o’clock arrived and the shop opened, with many young witches and wizards streaming inside to play with the merchandise, with plenty of them dragging their parents inside as well. It was all well and good for Harry, who took to the magicked till almost immediately, and spoke to the various customers who came into his midst. He didn’t mind the constant ogling, as it was the particularly young children who did so. They would whisper excitedly and point at him, but he especially loved it when the children stepped forward and asked him questions. The most popular one, of course, was to see Harry’s scar, which Harry, again, didn’t mind, as they were so very young and merely curious for curiosity’s sake.

Lunchtime arrived and Fred and George closed up shop for an hour, and took Harry down the road to The Leaky Cauldron, where Tom immediately put them in a private booth in the back. It was quite pleasant for Harry, just to have a day with the twins, whom he quite considered his brothers, despite the knowledge that things with Ginny wouldn’t work out romantically. As he pawed at his fish and chips, he felt a pair of eyes upon him, and slowly looked up.

“Something on your mind, mate?” George asked.

Harry shrugged. “Constantly,” he replied.

“Maybe it would do you some good to talk about it,” Fred said quietly.

Harry swallowed, setting down one of his chips and leaning back against the wooden surface of the booth. “Are you disappointed that Ginny and I won’t be together?”

Fred immediately laughed aloud at that. “She’s mad for Draco, so that’s a ‘no’ from me, mate,” he assured him.

“Yeah,” George went on, “not like she’s your type anyway.”

Harry felt his face flushing immediately. “What?!” he demanded.

Fred waved his hand then, and Harry felt the effects of a Silencing Charm immediately bubble around them all. “Well, for one thing, mate, you’re gay,” he told him.

Harry sighed. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

“For people who know what to look for,” George said with a grin.

Fred lifted his tankard of butterbeer to his lips. “Not to mention your attraction, and likely relationship, with a certain former professor of ours.”

Harry felt himself going pale. “What?” he whispered.

“You’re with Snape, aren’t you?” George asked for clarification.

Harry looked around then, heart beating in his ears. “You can’t tell anyone. Severus will be sacked for sure, and—!”

“Harry, wait a moment,” Fred said quickly, holding up his hand. “We’d never tell anyone, because it’s not anyone’s business.”

Harry blinked. “Wait... You won’t say anything?”

“Why would we?” George asked. “You and Snape clearly aren’t completely happy people. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s the two of you.”

Harry dragged his hands along the wood grain of the table. “I... I don’t exactly know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “He came to the Order meeting last night at Grimmauld, and he followed me upstairs...”

“What happened?” Fred asked gently.

“We kissed,” Harry said.

“For the first time?” George wanted to know.

Harry shook his head. “No. I kissed him a few times last term, but he always came up with reasons for us not to,” he admitted. “Last night was the first time it was all right on his end, completely, mind you. It... It was sublime,” he whispered.

“Ah, young love,” Fred and George said together, putting their shoulders together, clasping their hands beneath their respective chins, and batting their eyelashes.

“Love?!” Harry demanded, immediately shaking his head. “Oh, bloody hell...”

“You’re against love?” George quipped.

“Not the institution of it,” Harry told them. “Just...”

Fred blinked. “What?”

“I don’t know if it’ll turn into anything, let alone love,” Harry said quickly. “It just started last night, you know. I’m hardly considering marriage or adoption...”

“Adoption?” George asked with a smirk.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, spreading his hands. “Not like two wizards can...”

Fred threw his head back and laughed then, which promptly cut Harry off. “Given the right circumstances, mate, anything with magic is possible,” he said. “Not like we’d tell you who to fall for and who not to fall for anyway.”

George grinned. “Wouldn’t have happened for me and Angelina,” he put in.

“Or for me and Alicia,” Fred said with a lazy smile. “We can’t constantly want to please other people when it comes to our romantic inclinations.”

“And although it’s horribly cliché,” George concluded, “go with your heart.”

Harry sunk lower in his seat then, wondering what this new development would mean for any potential future with Severus Snape.

~*~

Three days later, Harry was called downstairs and into the kitchen, and was slightly surprised to only see Sirius and Remus sitting at the table. After the news about Riddle’s return had surfaced in _The Prophet_ , he had been systematically taking down all the Muggle villages he could. As a direct result, Tonks had been working round-the-clock shifts with Moody, Kingsley, and many other Aurors in an attempt to eradicate the new hoped-for regime. By some standards, however, Harry knew that there were plenty of people who supported the Order of the Phoenix and also hoped, by the same token, that their organization would prevail.

“Sorry about rushing out the other day,” Harry said softly, and slipped into his customary chair at the table, a sandwich appearing before him, with he proceeded to pick at.

“It’s all right, Harry,” Sirius assured him, but made no moves to reach out to him.

“Anyone in their right mind would’ve been upset,” Remus put in, as he sipped a cup of tea and leaned back in his chair.

“Something going on?” Harry wanted to know, finally picking up his sandwich and taking a cursory bite or two.

Sirius nodded. “Yes. The two of us have been given a confidential assignment by Albus,” he said quietly, “which means we’re due to leave Grimmauld for a few days.”

Harry gave a slight nod in return. “So, do I have to go to the Burrow?”

“No, nothing like that, unless you’d like to,” Remus said.

Harry cocked his head to one side. “What’s the alternative?”

“Albus will be providing a protector for you within the order ranks,” Sirius said, and Harry could tell from his brooding expression that Severus had been chosen.

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Severus,” Remus responded, and Harry was quick to note that his other godfather didn’t seem to mind the development.

“I would prefer to stay at home if that’s all right,” Harry admitted. “Maybe Snape can be persuaded to give me some pointers for Advanced Potions next term.”

Remus placed a hand onto Sirius’s arm as his godfather began to protest. “I think that’s a wonderful idea of how to spend your time, Harry,” the man said, and Sirius glared at him.

Harry said goodbye to Sirius and Remus around four o’clock, after they’d had their tea, and went upstairs to his bedroom. He quickly scrawled out a shopping list and summoned Dobby, hoping that he could read it, and the little elf immediately agreed to go to the shops on his behalf. Next, Harry informed Kreacher that he would be preparing dinner that night, and Kreacher bowed his head, not seeming to mind being given the night off. When Dobby returned from the shops, Harry journeyed into the kitchen and unloaded the shopping, taking note of the expensive cuts of steak that he’d instructed Dobby to buy; the homemade tagliatelle pasta, fresh heads of garlic, basil, a block of parmesan, a ball of mozzarella, white truffles; and the carrots and leeks he intended to roast in a pan in the oven with some butter. The freshly-picked blackberries had been a last-minute thought of Harry’s, who had decided to prepare a blackberry Clafoutis for pudding. There was also a bottle of 1996 Carruades de Lafite that Harry had read about somewhere and asked Dobby to procure, and was delighted that the house-elf had readily done so.

Harry painstakingly prepared some garlic butter for their cuts of steak, humming to himself throughout the preparation. The pasta water came to a rapid boil, and he moved to add the tagliatelle to it when the time came. He diced up the garlic and basil together to add to the cream sauce for the pasta, and simmered the truffles just until they took on a golden-brown hue. Once the pasta was completed, Harry stirred the sauce into it, before grating the parmesan and mozzarella expertly. While all this had been going on, the veg had been bubbling away in their butter bath in their roasting pan from inside the oven behind him. Harry knew to expect Severus, via an owl from Dumbledore, around eight, and it was after six by this point. He himself had sent a note to Severus, informing him not to have supper, as it would be taken care of by Dobby, which was not a complete lie, he realized, as he put the steaks, pasta, and veg underneath a Stasis Charm, so as he could put together the batter for the Clafoutis. Once that was completed, and he got Dobby to look after it and put it into the oven, it was nearing seven-thirty, and Harry knew he would have to hurry up and change before Severus arrived.

Harry headed upstairs and into Sirius’s former bedroom, going into the en suite relatively quickly and stripping down for a shower. He gave himself a cursory glance in the mirror, and hoped that Severus would think he was filled out enough for him. The years of Quidditch and other forms of exercise had been good for Harry, as he had defining muscles, while still retaining that wiry build he seemed to be known for. As he stepped into the shower, he found that he couldn’t imagine ever taking Severus, even if asked, and, as his face tinged with heat at the notion of it, mentally crossed his fingers that Severus wouldn’t mind being on top during their exploits in the bedroom.

Once his shower was completed and Harry had dried himself off, Harry made his way back into his bedroom and perused his wardrobe and dresser for something appropriate to wear that evening. Ever since his shopping trip with Sirius, upon his move into Grimmauld, Harry now had a pride in his appearance, which had extended just from his Hogwarts robes. Now, he had a wide variety of clothes to choose from, and he hoped that Severus would like what he had chosen. He ultimately selected a pair of dark trousers, a dark green button-down shirt, and some dress shoes which matched his trousers perfectly. Doing his best to tidy his hair before ultimately giving up, he casted a Cleaning Charm upon his teeth and made his way downstairs.

Almost as if Dobby had been listening for him, he heard the elf crack away as soon as he returned to the kitchen, knowing that he wanted the evening to be a private affair. He was unsure how Dobby managed to convince Kreacher to stay away, but found he was pleased that both elves had seemed to put aside their differences and were willing to work together.

As Harry went through the kitchen, checking on his prepared dinner and pudding, he knew that Severus would be along at any time now, and he didn’t want the man to potentially wriggle out of the evening he had planned for them. Quickly, Harry summoned good china and added their steaks to a platter, the pasta to a serving bowl, and the roasted veg into a silver compote, which was covered by a matching top. He quickly brought these to the main table in the massive, yet seldom-used, dining room, which he was pleased to see that both Kreacher and Dobby had prepared it with fine linens, as well as silver candlesticks, which boasted golden candles. The chandelier, which also held candles, was lit above the table, giving the entire dining room just the right amount of intimacy that Harry wanted.

As Harry headed back into the kitchen to oversee the cleaning, his ears pricked up as he heard the Floo activate from the living room, and next heard the familiar tread of Severus. Thinking quickly, Harry managed to open the bottle of wine, and was already offering the man a glass as he stepped into the kitchen on his own. He showed the man a tentative smile, hoping that the entirety of the evening wouldn’t prove to be too much.

“Harry,” Severus breathed, taking the wine and immediately setting it aside, before enveloping the young man into his arms. “Are we alone?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, breathing in the man’s familiar scent. “Sirius and Remus are out on a mission for Dumbledore, and Tonks is working with Moody and Kingsley tonight.”

“And your house-elves?”

“Somewhere about,” Harry replied with a shrug, pulling back slightly. “I told them to remain scarce tonight, and I think they recognize me as master of the house when Sirius isn’t around, so they’ve agreed.”

“Hmmm,” Severus said by means of response; one of his arms was wrapped securely around Harry’s middle, while the second carded its way through Harry’s wayward hair. “What am I going to do with you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry cocked his head to one side then, arching up against the man and biting his lip, taking great delight when the man physically stiffened against him. “Perhaps, bearing in mind that I’m considering this to be our first date, Severus, you could allow yourself to call me ‘Harry’.”

“A date?” Severus said, looking slightly confused at the expression, and turned to look around the kitchen. He took careful note to see that some dishes that Harry had used were already spelled to wash themselves, while others were already in the drying rack beside the sink. “I smell the smell of something delicious. Did your house-elves make it?” he asked, tipping the wine into his mouth, and his eyebrows raised, likely at how delicious it was.

“No.” Harry took his own glass of wine before winding his hand around Severus’s, and brought him into the dining room, where the man did a double-take at the spread before him. “I sent out Dobby to the shops, and Kreacher helped with the tidying up. Dobby also helped with the pudding,” he continued, hoping he wasn’t babbling too terribly much as he pulled out a chair for Severus, inviting him to sit down.

“This is why your note stated not to eat supper?” Severus asked.

Harry nodded, pulling Severus’s napkin off the table and gently draping it into his lap. “I wanted to make you dinner...” Harry was suddenly pulled in an unceremonious manner into Severus’s lap, which would have made their wine go everywhere, were it not for his lover’s quick-thinking with a wandless and wordless Levitation Charm.

“No one has ever done something so selfless, yet so simple, for me,” Severus whispered, after he had finished thoroughly devouring Harry’s mouth.

Harry felt desire quickly pooling into his groin at the statement. “Well,” he said quietly, as he shuffled from foot-to-foot, “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Severus smiled, patting Harry’s arse indulgently as Harry walked towards the other end of the table, his hips swaying in a teasing manner as he sat opposite the man. “Although, I must admit, my Harry, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the notion that you were a bit inferior when it came to potions, before you and Draco partnered up.”

Harry smirked as he casually lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said softly, the wine remincient of berries, licorice, and a third flavor that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I’ve been cooking since the age of two. When it came to potions, I hardly knew that they were real until eleven.”

Severus stiffened at the indirect mention of Harry’s childhood living with the Dursleys. “I can never apologize for how many doubts I had about your previous life,” he said quietly.

Harry shook his head then, wanting desperately to reach out and take ahold of Severus’s hand, but the table was much to big for him to do so. “I’ve accepted your apology, Severus, and you have been forgiven,” he said quietly, giving the man a tentative smile. “Can we merely enjoy our first of what I hope will turn out to be many dates?”

Severus smiled a bit sadly then, and Harry realized that the man was not fully prepared to forgive himself, not for any of it, not yet, but would strive to have a good time that evening. “It all looks delicious, Harry,” he assured him, picking up his knife and fork, and stabbing into his steak. “It melts in my mouth,” he observed, after cutting, chewing, and swallowing.

Harry beamed under the praise. “The pasta has white truffles in it,” he said quietly.

Severus grinned. “So, that is what I smelled, then?”

Harry flushed and lowered his eyes. “Perhaps it was,” he replied.

After dinner and pudding, which had been a rather smashing success, Harry took Severus firmly by the hand and led him upstairs to his bedroom. He didn’t need to communicate the notion that he was not yet ready to be fully intimate with the man, and he loved how charismatic and gentle that Severus had turned out to be, in the burgeoning days of their relationship. They lay awake half the night, just talking, and getting to know one another better.

“Tell me a secret,” Harry whispered.

Severus chuckled. “I am not a teenager, Harry.”

Harry rolled over so that he was on his side, facing the man. “I promise not to tell.”

“I trust you, Harry...”

Harry bit down on his lower lip, knowing that another incentive would have to be given. “I’ll tell you a secret of mine in return,” he said softly.

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Yes, I do suppose you would.”

Harry reached out then, gently tracing the planes of muscles on Severus’s rippling chest, and smiled to himself as Severus’s eyes fluttered at the butterfly-wing touch of his hand. “I could go first, if you like,” he offered.

“Very well,” Severus replied, attempting to keep in control.

“The Sorting Hat wished to place me in Slytherin,” Harry said softly, and Severus’s eyes snapped open, causing Harry’s hand to still against him.

“And why, pray tell, did it not?” the man asked.

Harry sighed. “I suppose one can inadvertently blame Ron for it not,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Ron told me that, just after Draco’s sorting, that only bad witches or wizards got placed into Slytherin. I’d barely known about the Wizarding World being real for a month and, other than Hagrid, Ron was the first person to show me kindness. I wanted to be his friend, and I still am. However, we’ve both amended our thoughts on Slytherin, Ron though Draco’s relationship with Ginny, and mine through... Well, mine with you.”

Severus sighed, pressing his forehead into Harry’s. “I suppose that all of our perceptions of people and certain things—ideals, if you will—have changed drastically.”

Harry swallowed, knowing full well that Severus would be able to hear his heart, which was merrily pounding away in his breast, due to their closeness. “Yes,” he whispered, “they have.” He hesitated for a moment and leaned in closer, brushing his lips with the man’s. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow intimate, with their tongues dancing in one another’s mouths, and Harry felt himself literally rising to the occasion. “Okay, okay,” he said quickly, drawing back, not wanting to get too terribly out of hand. “Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To tell me a secret,” Harry said, not wanting to blame Severus for a moment if his own brain was fuzzy, for that was exactly what his was.

Severus sighed, and Harry knew that he had won the argument. “Very well,” he replied, and tossed his head back for a moment, obviously thinking. “All right. I have one.”

Harry grinned up at him. “Let’s hear it.”

Severus leaned forward then, and Harry immediately felt goosebumps on every inch of his flesh, due to Severus’s hot breath at his ear, and his tongue coming out to play. It gently licked along his shell, before sucking his lobe briefly into his mouth. “I’ve never felt this way before about anyone in my life,” he whispered, which caused Harry to immediately throw his arms around the man, never wanting to let him go.

~*~

The following day, Harry had an owl from Sirius, letting him know that he and Remus would be away for another couple of days on their mission. Harry didn’t mind, as this meant that Severus would be extending his stay at Grimmauld. Once asked, Severus confirmed he had gotten his own owl from Albus, letting him know that he was needed to continue to watch Harry. Harry, in excitement, proceeded to laze about the entire house that day with his lover, loving the fact that they were together, and hoping against hope that Riddle wouldn’t see fit to call a Death Eater meeting, thus taking Severus away from him.

They ordered takeaway from The Leaky Cauldron, with Tom coming into the living room himself to drop it off. Harry gratefully paid the proprietor of the wizarding establishment, and even gave him a few Galleons extra for his secrecy. He plated up their respective dinners—roast chicken with boiled potatoes and roasted veg—before wandering upstairs to see where Severus had gotten to. After checking the library and his bedroom and finding them both empty, he decided to try the attic, and was rewarded with the sight of his lover speaking in soft tones to the hippogriff they kept up there.

“I see you’ve met Witherwings,” Harry said, stepping into the room. He automatically bowed to the great creature, who let out an indulgent trill in Harry’s direction and bowed back, watching with his beautiful yellow eyes as Harry sat beside Severus.

“Harry, don’t take me for a fool,” Severus said gently, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair as the latter placed his head upon his shoulder. “I know that this creature is Buckbeak. Albus informed me of your heroism, alongside Miss Granger, at the end of your third-year.”

Harry peered up at Severus. “I thought you hated Sirius.”

Severus sighed. “While I will never like him as a person, I will readily admit that the Wizengamot did him wrong by not investigating in the case of the murder of your parents, plus those twelve Muggles,” he remarked, and Harry was surprised at this declaration. “No innocent man ever deserves Azkaban.”

Harry leaned upwards then and peppered kisses along Severus’s jaw. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for, Severus Snape.”

Severus sighed. “I am no good man, Harry.”

Harry shook his head at him, picking up his head so that he could regard him. “You are an amazingly brave man, Severus. Nothing you say or do will convince me otherwise. You put your life on the line, day in and day out, all for the side of the Light and the Greater Good. You’ve got many things to be proud for...”

“It’s for you,” Severus said softly. “It was always for you.”

Harry blinked. “It was?”

Severus dragged a hand down his face. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t permit anything to happen, given that you were Lily’s son,” he whispered. “But things are different now. Now that we’ve made the leap from professor and student into something far more dangerous.”

“I wasn’t placed into Gryffindor just because I asked the hat, you know,” Harry said. “I’m also good at breaking the rules. And I’ve been told that I’m brave.”

Severus sighed, gently pulling Harry by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. “I am content with knowing that you want this as much as I do.”

“Of course I do, Severus,” Harry assured him. “Of course I want this.”

“And, speaking of wanting,” the man continued, grinning now, “I seem to recall that a certain young man’s sixteenth birthday is in a few weeks.”

“Hmmm,” Harry murmured, nuzzling into Severus’s embrace, and found he was quite content to stay there. He was not especially looking forward to the massive celebration that Mrs. Weasley was more than likely planning for him at the Burrow, given the fact that it was deemed far too dangerous to go public with his lover. “I don’t need anything, Severus.”

“I never mentioned ‘needing’, Harry,” Severus said gently, guiding him back and staring down into those lust-filled green eyes of his. “I specifically said ‘wanting’.”

Harry sighed. “It can be anything?”

Severus smiled. “If it is in my power to do so, yes.”

Harry swallowed then, knowing that he had to speak, and gently ran his tongue over his lips once, twice, and inwardly smirked at how much it affected Severus. “I want you,” he said softly to the man, and Severus blinked.

“What?”

“For my birthday,” Harry told him.

Severus shook his head. “You have me, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Not in the way I want...”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Harry, are you...?”

“Sure?” he asked, and smiled. “Yes,” he assured him. “For my birthday, I want you to have me completely, just as I want you.”

Severus smiled then, and gently pulled Harry closer. “Then I shall endeavor to get you what you want on that day, my Harry,” he replied, before he bent down his head and kissed the young man who would soon be his lover in truth.


	8. Fall Like a Stone

It had been two days since his life-altering conversation with Severus, and Harry couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. They’d fallen asleep that night in each other’s arms and, come morning, Harry was more than a little saddened to find Severus had returned to Hogwarts. He looked over the note the man had left upon his pillow, and Harry held it to his chest, before secreting it inside the back of his wardrobe.

Remus and Sirius had returned to Grimmauld the morning Severus had gone, and Harry was relieved that none of the three men had run into one another. As he went downstairs for breakfast, he heard from Sirius that the mission had gone well. Remus also was quick to inform everyone that he’d had an owl from Tonks, saying that she was due to return to Grimmauld by teatime, and was looking forward to seeing them all. Remus then left the breakfast table after he’d eaten, and moved to answer Tonks’s owl.

“They seem quite close,” Harry observed, moving his scrambled eggs around his plate, with his other hand occupied by a piece of half-eaten toast.

Sirius gave a small smile and rolled his eyes. “Moony is crazy about her, no question.”

“And you really don’t mind?” Harry pressed, not wanting to get a rise out of the man, but also wanting to know his true feelings about the situation.

“Harry, he’s my best friend, and she’s my favorite cousin. Of course I don’t mind. In fact, I think the two of them are rather excellent together,” Sirius told him.

Harry smiled at that, and stabbed at his eggs again. “Glad you think so.”

Sirius pulled his mug of steaming tea towards him and sipped at it ever so slightly then. “Remus was not the only one to get an owl this morning, Harry.”

Harry blinked, his blood suddenly running cold, and hoped that someone hadn’t caught wind of his relationship with Severus, and, therefore, saw fit to inform Sirius of it. “Yeah?” he asked, and hated that his voice resembled a squeak. “What’d it say?”

“You’re not in trouble, Harry,” Sirius assured him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Far from it, actually.” He summoned the letter and showed it to him, and Harry was quick to recognize the handwriting of Molly Weasley. “You’ve been invited to spend some time at the Burrow, is all. If you want to, that is.”

Harry’s jaw fell open, and he had to snatch at the halfway-chewed pieces of egg with his teeth to ensure they didn’t come spilling out and fall onto the table. “I can go to the Burrow?”

Sirius smiled indulgently at that. “Of course you can, Harry. Ron is due to return from the Granger residence, and Hermione is coming with him. Plus, Ginny and Draco are already there, as you know. Not to mention the fact that Fred and George still live nearby, and Bill makes regular visits with his girlfriend, Fleur. And, according to Molly and Arthur, Charlie came down a few days back from Romania—he’s taking a few weeks off from the dragon preserve. I know you like Charlie very much,” Sirius put in, and Harry flushed, knowing that Ron had suspected that Harry had had a crush on Charlie when his elder brother had brought the dragons for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry shoved himself backwards from the table then; he did not want to talk about his preferences with Sirius, and the crush on Charlie had been minor. In fact, he had had a far more full-fledged crush on Cedric at the end of the year, which was partially why he had been so torn up at the young man’s death, right in front of him. “Not going to discuss it, Sirius,” he said, pushing in his chair and stumbling backwards.

“Well, do you want to go to the Burrow, then?” Sirius asked.

Harry sighed. “Yes, yeah. I’d like to go to the Burrow,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll send Mrs. Weasley a thank-you and an acceptance through Hedwig. I’m sure she’d like to stretch her wings a bit.”

Harry moved out of the kitchen then and towards the staircase, and made his way quickly up into his bedroom. He smiled at Hedwig as she screeched automatically in greeting, and he gently petted her head. He was forever grateful for his familiar, and although he understood why Hermione liked keeping Crookshanks—because who didn’t want a small little animal to cuddle up with?—he was entirely used to Hedwig now, and he wouldn’t trade her for all the cats or Kneazles, pups or Crups, frogs or toads, in the world.

“I need to send a letter to the Burrow, girl, to Mrs. Weasley,” he told her, and Hedwig’s amber eyes looked excited. “We’ll be staying there for a time. You’re allowed to fly back here, if you want, but I thought you’d want to come...” Harry chuckled then as Hedwig playfully nipped at his ear. “All right, all right. I’ll let Mrs. Weasley know we’ll both be coming, and you can deliver it for me.”

Harry painstakingly drafted a letter out for Mrs. Weasley, and made sure that Hedwig had plenty of owl treats at her disposal as he wrote. He made sure to thank her profusely for the invitation, and let her know that he didn’t expect anything for his birthday, nor would he prove to be a bother as a house guest. Thanking her one final time, letting her know he would see her in three days—if that was enough time on their end—he signed and sealed up the letter quickly. He then handed it off to Hedwig and opened up his bedroom window, watching her fly off into the early summer air, knowing that she loved the journey, although his was only just beginning.

~*~

Harry arrived at the Burrow via the Floo Network from Grimmauld Place as scheduled, and he was greeted by the loving arms of Mrs. Weasley immediately after stepping out of the fireplace, soot and all. It was a quick Cleaning Spell which remedied the soot covering both him, the floor, and the rug around him, but Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem to mind. She indulgently patted his cheek and unshrunk his trunk, before banishing it upstairs, likely knowing that Harry wouldn’t be needing it for the foreseeable future.

“They’re all waiting for you in the gardens, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, embracing him one last time before letting him go. “Lunch should be ready in half an hour.”

Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley before he stepped around her and out the kitchen door beyond, where he saw Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Draco flying high in the sky around the Burrow. Hermione was sitting with Fleur, catching up—which Harry was slightly taken aback to see—while Bill was commenting on the match. Mr. Weasley was staring indulgently around the garden at his brood, but immediately broke off the stares as Harry came into view, and Harry was caught up in the man’s embrace.

“Ah, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, always far more reserved than his wife in his greetings, and yet, never any less kind. He clapped Harry good-naturedly on the shoulder, before conjuring a chair for him out of a rather abundant blade of grass, which he placed just beside Hermione. “Just in time for lunch, I see.”

Harry nodded. “It’s great to see you, Mr. Weasley.”

“We always love having you here at the Burrow, Harry,” Mr. Weasley assured him, before he returned his gaze skyward, focusing on the match once more.

Harry smirked slightly as Fleur immediately got to her feet, embracing Harry and kissing him on both cheeks, before returning to her seat and winding her hand around Bill’s, likely considering that he and Hermione would want to catch up. Harry casually put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders as she laid her head down upon his own shoulder, and he gave a wave to Ron, while the latter was momentarily distracted from the Quidditch game. He watched with rapt interest as the Weasleys and Draco flew around, wondering what their strategy was.

“Draco has apparently reached the status of honorary Weasley now,” Hermione whispered to Harry from against his shoulder.

Harry smiled. “Glad to hear it. He’s been brilliant since the beginning of last term. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

Hermione nodded, nuzzling into Harry briefly for a moment before pushing herself upwards again, watching the game. “How have things been with Sirius?”

Harry sighed with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “You know... It’s an adjustment,” he replied, and Hermione quickly nodded with understanding. “Especially now that I’m not treated like a common house-elf, and that I’ve got all these privileges...”

“Basic human rights, Harry,” Hermione said quickly.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Harry, you’re no longer controlled completely,” she told him in a patient manner. “You’re permitted to eat when you wish, go out wherever you like—within reason, as there will always be restrictions on teenagers living at home, usually including a curfew—as well as go to bed and wake up when you want to. I know you’re not used to it completely—and who would be, after just a few days?—but you’ll enjoy it, I know you will.”

Harry sighed, slumping back slightly in his chair. “I suppose that’s true... Of course, the hugging is also something that I’m growing used to rather quickly.”

Hermione, momentarily distracted from the game, turned to look over at Harry. “I’ve seen Sirius hugging you,” she said softly. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it? Because, if you need an adjustment period, I’m sure that Sirius would...”

Harry shook his head, cutting her off. “No, it isn’t that, ‘Mione,” he told her, and forced a smile onto his lips. “Just something to get used to, is all.”

Hermione nodded. “Naturally,” she told him, and smiled at him. “You look wonderful. You’ve clearly been eating well the last several days, and sleeping well, too.”

Harry hunched his shoulders then, not fully prepared to admit that he had slept the best whenever Severus slept beside him. “I suppose so...”

“Harry, what is it?” Hermione asked, amid Bill releasing the Snitch, which caused Ginny and Draco respectively to go after it. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Harry assured her, turning his attention back to the game, smirking slightly at the sight of Draco and Ginny being competitive with one another. “Just...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

Hermione mulled over the statement for a moment before she spoke again. “Well, are you seeing anyone, then?”

Harry felt himself blanch white at her statement then, looking away from Ginny and Draco’s pursuit of the Snitch to turn back to Hermione. “Am I _what_?” he demanded.

“Seeing someone,” Hermione repeated, although she remained patient with him. “I mean, I know Cedric’s murder by You-Know-Who hit you pretty hard, and Cho pretty much snogged you out of nowhere, but you wouldn’t be breaking any rules if you...”

Harry swallowed, his fingers proceeding to knot themselves together. “You... You knew that I had feelings for Cedric, and not Cho?” he asked.

Hermione sighed, her shoulders visibly deflating as she nodded her head. “I figured it out,” she remarked, the buzz of Bill’s commentary about Draco and Ginny going after the Snitch continuing beside them. “You seemed more devastated than anyone—except maybe Mr. Diggory—when you brought him back from the graveyard,” she admitted. “I... At first, I thought it was because You-Know-Who had literally killed him right in front of you but, the more I thought about it, I just thought...”

“You weren’t wrong, ‘Mione,” Harry replied, unknotting his fingers and immediately moving to take her by the hand. “I think it _did_ have to do with Riddle using the Killing Curse right in front of me... Or Wormtail, if we want to be technical about it, although it was done on Riddle’s direct orders,” he said quietly.

Harry shut his eyes then, remembering the rasping voice of Riddle, murmuring, _Kill the spare_ , and then Wormtail holding his wand aloft, and shouting the Killing Curse. The beam of green light had plummeted at full force towards the fellow Hogwarts champion, and Harry instantly recalled the next words.

 _NO!_ his shout had echoed. _CEDRIC!_

“It was plain to see how much you cared about him,” Hermione told him gently, effectively snapping him out of his reverie. “It was a great loss for you. Perhaps, given more time, he could have seen that Cho wasn’t the right person for him, and then you and he could have...”

“No, we couldn’t have,” Harry told her, his voice firm.

“Do you really think he was that committed to Cho?” Hermione queried.

Harry sighed. “That was part of it,” he admitted. He worried his lower lip and looked up, just as Ginny had caught the Snitch, making her team with George the victor. “I... I went to see Fred and George in Diagon about two weeks ago,” he replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrows amid the shouts of the Weasley family, Fleur, and Draco, as they all hurried around Ginny to congratulate her. “How was it?”

“Fine. I worked in the shop, had lunch at The Leaky...” He leaned back in his chair. “It felt good to be a typical teenager, if only for a few hours...”

“Something happened in Diagon, didn’t it?” Hermione whispered, barely aware of the dual cracks of Apparition, as Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson arrived on the ground of the Burrow, and immediately moved towards Fred and George respectively.

Harry sighed, a lump entering his throat as Ron came lumbering towards them then. “Yeah. You could say that something happened,” he admitted.

“Oi, mate!” Ron cried out then, heaving Harry up and out of the chair, only to give him a massive bear hug. “You come home, you need to give your best mate a hug!”

Harry forced the laughter from his lips. “You’re right, Ron,” he said, watching as Ginny gave Draco a quick kiss before moving to stand with Hermione. “Sorry.”

“No matter,” Ron said, squeezing Harry one final time before letting him go. “You feeling all right? You look good.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said, ignoring the pointed look that Hermione was giving him. “How have you been? Were Mr. and Mrs. Granger well?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied with a chuckle. “They seemed... Well, happy, that ‘Mione and I were finally in a relationship.”

“Long time coming, Ron,” Harry informed him.

“You’re not kidding!” the redhead said with a chuckle, before meeting his father’s gaze, and gave a small nod. “Well, I’d better get the brooms away with Fred and George,” Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry told him, nodding, and giving another smile to Draco, who promptly moved across the garden to join him. He clapped Draco upon the shoulder, and was rewarded with a clap in return. “How are things?” he asked.

Draco rolled upon the balls of his feet. “As well as can be expected, when you’re staying at the home of your girlfriend’s parents, guiltily eating their food one minute and snogging their daughter the next,” he said softly.

“Your parents still haven’t let up about you returning to the manor?” Harry asked.

Draco immediately shook his head. “Not that I would want to, anyway, given the circumstances,” the blond said, and seemed to instantly hunch his shoulders. “I... I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he admitted, and Harry was shocked at that. “They’ve disinherited me. Molly and Arthur have been plenty understanding about me being here, but I won’t let them continue to feed and clothe me when I have nothing to give in return...”

Harry put an arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Well, perhaps something can be done about your predicament,” he said softly, looking up at Mrs. Weasley stepped outside.

“Lunch is ready, loves!” she called. “Come on in!”

~*~

_Sirius—_

_I hope these last few days since my departure from Grimmauld to the Burrow have been all right for you. I suspect a great many order missions with Remus by your side are in your future, and I think Professor Trelawney would be proud of my prediction. I didn’t even need tea leaves for it, so I suppose Advanced Divination should be in my future!_

_Hedwig is still annoyed with Pigwidgeon here, naturally, as the erratic and fluffy little thing doesn’t ever seem to want to sit still and be quiet. She’s much more tolerant of Errol, and I’ve heard them hooting at one another on a regular basis. I’m sure Ron doesn’t want me to go into detail about Pig, given that he was a gift from you—and I know he’s thankful, believe me—but perhaps Snuffles could bite him into saying one nice thing about him._

_Ron and Hermione are doing well and seem to be as in love as ever before. Apparently, Ron’s visit to meet Mr. and Mrs. Granger officially as Hermione’s boyfriend went rather well, and both Grangers seem relieved that they’re finally a couple. Ron went to theaters for the first time, and watched the telly, and Mr. Weasley wants an invitation next. It was surprising, for me, at least, to hear that her parents are so okay with their relationship, because I’ve heard that most parents of daughters seem slightly taken aback when they introduce a prospective partner. Perhaps the Grangers—and the Weasleys, who seem to wholeheartedly adore Draco—are the exceptions to these rather stereotypical and old-fashioned rules..._

_Ginny is well and asks me to send you greetings. She tells me that she would love to come to Grimmauld at some point soon to see Witherwings. I let her know that I thought it was all right to come visit, but that, naturally, I would need to ask you first._

_Draco, on the other hand, is in low spirits these past few weeks. According to him, both Lucius and Narcissa have gone ahead with their threat to disinherit him. I’m not altogether sure what scenario prompted this on, although I am positive it stemmed from his refusal to take the Dark Mark last term. As such, he has been staying at the Burrow since then, but he feels terribly guilty about it, as he has nothing to give in return for the kindness of the Weasleys._

_I know that you’ve got your hands full with me, plus Witherwings, and your various missions for the order—not to mention Remus’s monthly “problem”—but, I thought it would be considerate and thoughtful if we offered Draco a home with us at Grimmauld. The two of you are family, after all, and he has mended his ways considerably. I consider him my second best male friend, if I’m being honest with you, and I would love nothing more to share my good fortune with Draco by permitting him sanctuary, a home, and a family, with everyone there._

_I’ll be at the Burrow for a few more days, as Mrs. Weasley is already discussing kinds of cakes with me for my birthday._

_Love, your godson,_

_Harry_

Harry pushed back from the desk he’d been using in Percy’s bedroom, before heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Making sure to keep out of Mrs. Weasley’s way, as she was making breakfast for the entire family, Harry handed off some owl treats to Hedwig before securing the letter to her leg. Hedwig bowed her head to be stroked by Harry for a moment, before eating up her owl treats in a hurry and, after a quick hoot, flew out the kitchen door.

“Harry, would you mind laying the table for me?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry turned around and smiled at her. “Of course, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh, Harry, love, you’re due to turn sixteen at the end of the month,” she replied, her tone indulgent as she cooked a mess of rashers, sausages, eggs, and potatoes on the stove at the other end of the kitchen. “I think it’s high time you called me ‘Molly’, and called Arthur ‘Arthur’, don’t you? Besides, dear Draco does.”

Harry moved towards the drawers where the plates and cutlery were kept. “Of course, Molly. I’ll try and remember.”

Molly smiled at him as he got to work, laying out the table, which already had placemats at the designated seats. Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco all headed into the kitchen shortly thereafter, likely the smell of Molly’s cooking waking them from their slumber. Molly chattered on with the family, levitating the breakfast items onto respective plates, before everyone sat at the mismatched chairs and the conversation continued, a pleasant buzz around them.

“How has living at Grimmauld Place been, Harry?” Arthur asked, not having had much of an opportunity to speak to Harry since his arrival at the Burrow.

Harry smiled at the Weasley patriarch. “It’s nice, Arthur,” he said, testing out the man’s first name, and was pleased that the man beamed at him readily. “I don’t know if I mentioned it, but Dumbledore gave Dobby’s services to me from Hogwarts.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Ah, yes. So, it appears as if you’ve your own house-elf now, Harry? And how does our Hermione feel about that?”

Harry peeked over at Hermione, who sniffed slightly at the conversation, but didn’t seek to add any verbal comment to it. “She’s all right with it, provided that Dobby is paid a decent wage, which he is; provided clothes, and he is; as well as the notion that he’s there willingly.”

Arthur smiled, stabbing a bite of scrambled egg. “I am going to wager a guess and say that Dobby is indeed there willingly?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“He was that one you freed from Malfoy, wasn’t he?” Arthur asked.

Harry nodded, looking over at Draco, who was so involved in a rather intimate-looking talk with Ginny, and wasn’t paying attention to either of them. “Dobby was that elf, yes,” Harry told him.

“He was always a spirited and sprightly little thing,” Arthur observed, moving a rasher or two around his plate. “Sounds to me as if he suits you better than that dark and depressing manor house in Wiltshire.”

Harry smirked. “One could make the claim that those two adjectives apply to Grimmauld Place as well, Arthur,” he put in.

Arthur looked up at Harry and immediately barked a laugh. “Something tells me that Sirius won’t permit it to remain in such a state much longer,” he said quietly. “What with the two of you living there now, and Remus and Tonks, I think it’ll stop appearing lifeless and have some light within it once again.”

Once breakfast was done and Molly banished the dishes to wash themselves, Fred and George used the Floo to get to the shop in Diagon, Arthur left for the ministry, and Bill and Fleur for Gringotts. Draco and Ginny went outside to fly around—which Harry deduced meant they would be snogging half the time. And Ron and Hermione went out onto the expansive grounds of the Burrow to walk, which Harry thought would mean the former would be spying on Draco and Ginny, still not wholeheartedly all right with their union.

Charlie, who had some time off from the dragon preserve in Romania, enlisted Harry for a conversation, which Harry didn’t mind. Harry sat opposite Charlie in the living room, before Molly interrupted them, telling both boys that she was heading out to the shops, and would be back in an hour or so. After ascertaining that neither of them needed anything, she utilized the Floo herself before the flames engulfed her, and she was gone.

“Everyone seems to be pairing up these days,” Charlie observed, from where he was lying down upon the couch, opposite Harry. “Bill and Fleur, Fred and Alicia, George and Angelina, Ron and Hermione, Draco and Ginny...”

“Is Percy still with his girlfriend from Hogwarts? Penelope Clearwater?” Harry asked, and recalled the pretty girl from Ravenclaw with long, blonde hair that always seemed to be holding Percy’s hand in the various hallways of the castle.

Charlie looked over at Harry and shook his head. “No. Percy ended things with Penelope after he thought that being a healer for St. Mungo’s wasn’t serious enough.”

“Not serious enough?!” Harry demanded, shaking his head. “That’s one of the most valuable jobs within the Wizarding World.”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose Percy is under the impression that you have to work at the ministry.”

Harry chewed his lip. “How’s he been? Since Fudge was sacked?”

Charlie sighed. “We’ve all tried reaching out to him,” he replied, his tone plain.

“It hasn’t been going well, then?” Harry guessed.

Charlie nodded quickly. “You’d be right,” he told him. “You’d think he was in love with the man or something...”

Harry blinked. “Percy’s gay?”

“Merlin, no,” Charlie said quickly, shaking his head. “Although he did have an infatuation with Fudge, that much was clear. Putting work over family and then cutting off contact with all of us, due to our support of you...”

Harry straightened up then; he hadn’t been made aware of that. “He what?”

Charlie immediately turned red, before righting himself on the couch. “Oh. I’m surprised Mum and Dad—or Ron, with that large mouth of his—didn’t mention it...”

“Mention what?” Harry cried out, his hands forming fists, from where they had previously been resting on his knees.

Charlie dragged a hand down his careworn-looking face. “Well, Percy was so convinced that Fudge was right about You-Know-Who not being back, that he actually sent us all letters, which told us to distance ourselves from you. I think, in his backward mind, he thought that this would be his way back into the family...” He broke off then, and shook his head. “Percy has always thought of you as his replacement,” he admitted.

Harry leaned back then, so much so that his head landed with a thunk upon the back of the couch he was sitting on. He winced slightly at the pain which his head became awash with for a moment as he stared up at the ceiling. “He’s got nothing to worry about, you know...”

“Mum and Dad _do_ think of you as one of us, Harry,” Charlie put in.

Harry shrugged. “Well, I appreciate it, I really do, but it doesn’t mean that anyone should think that I would just waltz in and replace one of you...”

Charlie smirked, getting to his feet and crossing the room, before sitting down next to Harry, a gleam in his eyes. “I know very well that you can’t waltz.”

Harry picked up his head then, which prickled in a moment of confusion. “What?”

“At the Yule Ball,” Charlie explained, “both Fred and George, plus Ron and Ginny, said that your attempts at a waltz with that Patil girl were a disaster.”

Harry scoffed, sitting back up again. “Guess it all came down to the fact that I was more than a little morose about who I couldn’t go with, to the point where I inflicted resentment onto the person I did end up attending with...”

“That Chang girl, yeah? The one who was seeing Cedric?”

Harry bit his lower lip and shook his head. “No. Although it was easier to let everyone think that, at the time...”

“Who did you want to go with, then?”

“Cedric,” Harry said quietly.

Charlie blinked. “Oh. You’re gay?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Cedric wasn’t the first bloke I had feelings for, and he wasn’t the last.” He shrugged slightly then. “Guess it just made his death even worse, you know?”

“No judgement from my end, Harry,” Charlie assured him, and Harry turned to look at him. “I’m gay, too.”

Harry laughed aloud then. “Wish I’d known that fourth-year.”

Charlie joined Harry in his laughter. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because, when I saw you delivering the dragons, I was sure that I was gay,” Harry said simply with a grin.

Charlie’s brown eyes widened. “I was the first bloke you had feelings for?”

Harry nodded, suddenly turning serious. “Yeah,” he replied.

Charlie swallowed then, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?” he asked.

Harry sighed. “Well, I don’t suppose you had a good time for me to tell you?” he asked. “I had to deal with the tournament, plus Riddle coming back, not to mention the hell my relatives put me through before Sirius gained his suit for custody, and then there’s the distance, what with you living in Romania and all...”

Charlie shook his head. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed. “It’s all right.”

Charlie looked as if he was considering something for a moment, before he suddenly pressed forward and kissed Harry.

Harry, after a moment of shock, immediately shoved Charlie back. “Hey!” he cried out then, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

Charlie grinned. “I would think it’s obvious, wouldn’t you?” he asked, before doing the same thing he’d done before.

“Charlie, don’t...” Harry began.

“Oi!” came a shout from the kitchen door.

“Ron!” came another.

Harry shoved Charlie off him and got to his feet, feeling the entirety of his body shaking. He felt shocked when Hermione rushed forward then, putting her arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him out of the room.

“It’s all right,” she whispered as they headed upstairs.

“Charlie! Harry’s my best mate! What were you thinking?!” Ron cried out from downstairs, his tone filled with anger.

Harry trembled as they entered Percy’s room, likely the only place in the house where they wouldn’t be disturbed. “Thanks,” he said as she gently pushed him into a chair.

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione asked.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, amid Charlie’s proclamations of innocence from down the stairs, and Ron’s shouts of protection for Harry. “I told Charlie that he was the first bloke I fancied...”

“And he took it to mean that you still fancied him,” Hermione guessed.

Harry swallowed. “Yes,” he replied.

Hermione sighed as she sank down onto the end of Percy’s bed. “You don’t still fancy Charlie, do you? Or are you still hung up on Cedric?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s neither, Hermione. Promise.”

“Was I right, before?” she asked. “Are you seeing someone?”

Harry deliberately lowered his voice. “Yes,” he whispered.

Hermione smiled. “No wonder. You’ve been a lot happier lately.”

“Probably because I’m not worked like a house-elf every damn day of the summer holidays,” he joked, and Hermione laughed.

“He’s good to you, then?”

Harry flushed then, before nodding his head. “He’s amazing.”

“Do I know him?”

Harry lowered his eyes. “We all do, but...”

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s older,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper, “and no one can find out.”

Hermione blinked. “Older than us?”

“Yes.”

“Older than Fred and George?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Charlie and Bill?”

“Older than both of them,” Harry confirmed.

Hermione let out a laugh then. “Surely not as old as Sirius or Remus!” she said, and when Harry locked eyes with her, she went pale. “It’s not Sirius...?”

“Merlin, no!” Harry said, drawing back immediately in disgust. “Sirius and Remus are practically my parents, and besides, they love breasts too much. I’ve seen it,” he said, and shook his head at her.

Hermione straightened up upon the bed then, and nodded to herself, knowing when to be supportive. “I’ll just say one thing more, and then we’ll put it away, all right?”

Harry sighed. “All right.”

“Be careful,” she urged him. “No matter what, please. Be careful.”

Harry nodded at her. “Of course, ‘Mione,” he replied.

~*~

In the wake of Sirius’s letter of acceptance that Draco could move in to Grimmauld, and Draco’s many hugs of delight all around, there was a new normal settled into life at the Burrow. The normal, however, no matter how pleasant it was, could not last forever, as Harry knew that times could not remain calm, especially with him around. As Harry watched yet another Quidditch match played upon the grounds of the Burrow, two days later, he was shocked when he heard the crack of Apparition, and his jaw subsequently dropped when Severus stepped into view, his onyx eyes blazing then, with something Harry couldn’t quite identify.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus drawled as he stepped closer, “I bear urgent news from the headmaster, for your ears only.”

“Of course, Severus,” Arthur said quickly, shaking Severus’s hand, which the latter only seemed to tolerate.

“Harry, perhaps you should show Severus to the orchards?” Molly asked. “The commentary can’t be heard from there, and it’s very secluded.”

Harry ignored the entirety of his blood rushing to his groin at that statement. “Thank you, Molly, I shall,” he replied, getting unsteadily to his feet. He made his way to the orchards, hoping beyond hope that the man was not angry with him, and, when they arrived—the various trees filled with dirigible plums, apples, cherries, and pears providing seclusion from prying Muggle eyes—he turned around to face the man. “Sir...”

Without hesitation, once he was assured that they were alone, Severus erected a Silencing Charm, before grabbing ahold of Harry, and dragging him towards him. His lips met Harry’s almost immediately, and Harry wound his arms around Severus then, feeling complete as their bodies molded together, but not so much as when they tasted each other.

“I missed you,” Harry said breathlessly, when they’d come up for air, and Severus cradled him in his arms.

Severus smiled down at him. “I’m pleased to hear that, as the feeling is mutual.”

Harry worried his lower lip. “Was there a message from Dumbledore?”

“Just that he is hoping you’re enjoying your holiday,” Severus replied. “He’s traveling at the moment, but he’s not informed me as to where.”

Harry chuckled then. “Not that it really matters to me.”

“Nor is it any of your business, brat,” Severus replied, leaning back down again, and kissing Harry thoroughly.

“Wait, wait,” Harry said quickly, breaking off the kiss. “I need to tell you something...”

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Harry sighed. “I just don’t want you to hate me...”

“I don’t hate you, Harry,” Severus assured him, caressing his face. “Tell me.”

“I was speaking with Charlie the other day,” he said quietly, “and we got to the topics of coupling and how everyone seemed to be partnering up...”

“Yes?” Severus queried.

“Well, I told Charlie that he was the first bloke I fancied—before Cedric,” he said quickly, and Severus nodded; he knew the information already, and he of course didn’t fault Harry for having feelings for men before they were together.

“While you were under no obligation to tell him, I’m sure you only did it because you didn’t want any awkwardness between the two of you,” Severus said reasonably.

Harry nodded. “Exactly! Except Charlie...”

“Yes?”

“He... He snogged me,” Harry said, turning red at the recollection of it all.

Severus’s hands subsequently tightened around Harry. “Did he?”

“I pushed him off,” Harry said quickly. “I... I was scared. Ron and Hermione came in and assessed the situation, and Hermione got me out of there, while Ron yelled at him.”

“Did the offending Mr. Weasley apologize?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Before dinner, that same day. He said it would never happen again. And besides, it’s not like I see him on a regular basis...”

Severus sighed. “Charles Weasley is handsome, and significantly younger than me...”

“Those are two truths, but he is _not_ you,” Harry stated firmly, pressing closer to the man. “And you’re forgetting one very important thing here.”

Severus looked down at Harry. “Which is?”

“That I don’t want Charlie,” Harry told him. “I want _you_.”

A smile threatened to overtake the corners of Severus’s lips. “You’re sure?”

Harry nodded at him, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck again. “I’m very sure. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Severus Snape.”

Severus smiled down broadly at that and, once he was sure of Harry’s answer, proceeded to press closer than ever before. He tasted Harry’s lips then, requesting access into the hot cavern that was his mouth, and Harry immediately granted him access. Harry was slightly taken aback when Severus dipped his hands beneath Harry’s Chudley Cannons T-shirt and proceeded to flick and tease at his nipples. Harry, however, mewled into his mouth the sensations which Severus evoked from within him, and wanted nothing more than to experience such waves of pleasure all the time.

Greatly daring, Harry grabbed ahold of Severus’s wrist, and dragged it down from his chest and toned stomach, past the waistband of his jeans, and towards his groin, which had been steadily hardening from the moment Molly had suggested that Severus and Harry have their conversation in the orchard. He felt great delight when Severus stiffened and pulled back, looking down at Harry for a moment, before he unwound Harry’s arms from around his neck, and used one to touch him through his own trousers.

Harry, adrenaline pumping, surged forward once again, teasing Severus through his trousers, whimpering slightly as the man afforded him the same treatment. Both men continued the assault on each other’s mouths—tongues battling for dominance—as well as their trousers, and mutually felt a stiffening from the other almost simultaneously. They grunted, pressing forward, until, finally, with cries against the other’s lips, came in both their trousers, and had to keep ahold of one another, as they surely would have gone plummeting to the ground otherwise.

“Harry...”

“Yes?” Harry whispered, looking up at his lover—pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed—and found that Severus had never looked more handsome.

“You are amazing.”

Harry nuzzled closer. “So are you,” he whispered back.

Severus waved his hand, performing a Cleaning Charm on them both, before pulling back, wanting to taste Harry once more.

“Um...”

Harry immediately broke away from Severus then, shaking like a leaf would, and couldn’t bear to look at his lover.

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, addressing Bill, who stood before them.

Bill looked justifiably embarrassed as he shuffled from foot to foot. “Erm... Mum says lunch is ready, Harry, and that if you wish to stay for it, Professor Snape...”

“Thank you, but I’ve some brewing to attend to back at the castle,” Severus replied.

Bill gave a stiff nod. “Of-of course...”

“Bill...” Harry tried.

Bill looked over at Harry then, and moved to speak, and Harry knew then that the ultimate verdict of what Bill would say depended on a specific set of circumstances, and he was fearful that they would not go in his favor.


	9. Fall on Your Sword

“Bill, please,” Harry said, aware of the tremor in his voice, but unable to call it back. He couldn’t call it back, given the situation they’d found themselves in.

All would be ruined in the world if Bill let it slip to someone, anyone, that Harry and Severus were in a relationship. Firstly, Severus would likely be sacked from Hogwarts, and thus, banned completely from the grounds. Secondly, Severus’s superiors—Dumbledore for the Light and Riddle for the Dark—would be equally let down by him; Dumbledore would be disappointed, and Riddle would likely be so enraged that he would go beyond the Cruciatus. Thirdly, Severus’s spying days for the Light would be over, as he would literally be up for a lengthy sentence from Azkaban from the Wizengamot, and execution from the Death Eater camp. And fourthly, finally, Harry would be separated—likely permanently—from Severus, for he was quite positive that people would believe that he had been coerced into the relationship, given their age difference and the fact that they’d been known to hate one another.

Bill slowly turned his gaze from Harry to Severus, his eyes filled with slight rage, and Harry didn’t think this boded well for a positive outcome. “I just want to know one thing here, and one thing only, professor.”

Severus arched an eyebrow; he longed to take Harry into his arms, to comfort his frightened lover, but made no move to do so, at least, not knowingly in front of Bill. “Yes?” he asked.

“Please... Promise me you’re not forcing him,” he said, and Harry could detect protection in his tone, and was shocked at how much Bill seemed to care for him.

Severus immediately shook his head. “Of course I’m not.”

“I wanted it first,” Harry broke in, wanting to proclaim Severus’s innocence. “Severus... He held me at arms-length for months, and we only started this at the beginning of the month. It was during the first order meeting at Grimmauld that we...”

“That I assured Harry that I returned his feelings,” Severus informed Bill. “We truly fancy one another, Bill. There is no coercion, on either end, I assure you.”

Bill appeared as if he’d inadvertently swallowed something bitter as he looked from one man to the other. “You no longer hate each other?”

Harry shook his head at Bill. “No,” he replied.

“Not for quite some time, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said softly.

Bill swallowed then, shuffling from foot to foot, before he finally nodded. “Very well. I can see that it would do more harm than good if this got out.”

Harry blinked. “Bill? What are you saying?” he whispered.

Bill turned to look over at Harry. “I’m saying that I’ll keep your secret,” he replied. “I mean, it’s plain to see there’s more to the situation here. You clearly care for one another, and any animosity you held for the other is long since passed.”

Severus gave a slight nod. “That is true.”

“Not to mention your commitment to the order, and to Dumbledore, professor,” Bill remarked. “One false move, and it could all go to ruin. I do not seek to bring downfall to the Wizarding World, nor to the side of the Light. We all have to band together now that war has begun. If one of these bandings is you with Harry, it is not my business or concern, as long as it is a consensual union, wherein you are both happy.”

“More happy than I’ve been in my entire life,” Harry whispered, knowing, in that moment, that having Severus potentially snatched away from him had been a wake-up call.

Bill gave a short nod. “Well, it seems as though we are in agreement.” His gaze turned to Severus then, and he was quick to narrow his eyes. “However, if you so much harm one hair on the head of my brother, one word from me, and you’ll be handed off to the Wizengamot for a life sentence in Azkaban.”

Severus nodded at Bill. “Understood.”

Bill gave a tight smile then. “Wonderful, it seems we understand one another,” he replied, and stepped away. “I’ll give you five minutes to say goodbye, but better hurry. Wouldn’t want Mum getting suspicious, and you know how Ron gets when her bacon sandwiches are on offer,” he said, and slipped out through the entrance of the trees.

Harry, once Bill was completely out of sight, immediately threw himself into Severus’s arms, and was completely relieved when the man caught him. Their pounding heartbeats met from within their chests as they attempted to calm the other down, and Harry pressed closer. “Merlin, that was close,” he whispered.

“Nearly too close,” Severus replied, tangling his fingers into Harry’s hair.

Harry nuzzled closer for a moment before pulling back slightly, and gazing up at Severus. “I do have one question...”

Severus nodded. “Yes?”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler to _Obliviate_ him?” he asked.

Severus could hardly help the smile which quirked at his lips. “You were still a child when the First Wizarding War took place, so you likely wouldn’t know the rules set in stone.” He mulled over his ultimate answer for a moment. “Those of us with Death Eater backgrounds... We’ve traces on our wands,” Severus said quietly, knowing that a direct approach, especially with Harry, would always be best.

Harry shook his head. “You were cleared of those charges, Severus...”

Severus caressed Harry’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Yes, I was, with Dumbledore’s word, I might add,” he replied. “However, the Wizengamot—for the moment, at least—does not take too kindly to individuals within the Wizarding World having Death Eater ties. So, a trace is put upon my wand. Not only would it alert the Aurors to my direct location—thus giving away why I had to use the spell in the first place—but I would be hauled off to Azkaban for Improper Use of Magic. They would use an antidote upon Bill—”

“But Lockhart _Obliviated_ himself at the end of my second-year—Ron and I saw it, because he tried to do it with us first!” Harry cried out in protest. “He’s _still_ at St. Mungo’s because of it, and it’s how he got to write that bloody memoir of his...”

“Gilderoy Lockhart was revealed to be a fraud soon thereafter, also thanks to Dumbledore,” Severus informed Harry patiently. “Because of this, and his own Improper Use of Magic, he was not considered a candidate for the antidote.”

“What is the antidote?”

“In a minor case, a simple Reversal Spell— _Redi Memoria_ ,” Severus said, knowing that such a spell was very rare, and hardly anyone in the Wizarding World knew about it, unless you were skilled in charms or the Dark Arts. “In extreme cases, a special potion needs to be brewed. It takes three weeks to do so, and must be decanted on the night of the full moon, and will be the most effective during the fall or spring equinox, or the winter or summer solstice.”

“What’s the potion called?” Harry asked.

“The Elixir of Evocation,” Severus replied, “invented in ancient times when the monarchy was more prevalent and in power throughout England. If it were for the elixir, I believe Sir Nicholas could have been saved from his botched execution.”

“How is it made?” Harry wanted to know.

“The most important things are flowers.”

Harry smirked. “Flowers?”

Severus yanked Harry closer to him then, enjoying the mewl his lover made in response. “As I’m sure Professor Sprout as mentioned in Herbology, all flowers have a meaning.”

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Daffodils represent birth and new beginnings; foxgloves are symbolized by offending fairies; and tulips are perfect love. Of course, this is only to name a few,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Severus.

“Brat,” Severus said, but he was smiling. “If it is for a pleasant memory recollection, the buds of periwinkle or myrtle flowers are added completely to the concoction, which should ultimately turn a shimmering yellow,” Severus informed him. “If it is for a sorrowful memory, then pheasant’s eye flowers are crushed and added to the potion, which will turn a dark grayish-blue. If the memory that you seek is unknown to be pleasant or sorrowful, then lilac flowers are torn in a haphazard manner into the potion, and will turn a basic, unimaginative white.”

Harry stood on his toes and wrapped his arms around Severus’s neck. “My brilliant potions master,” he whispered.

Severus chuckled. “My brat,” he replied, and dipped his head down, heart thundering from within him as Harry’s lips met his.

~*~

Three days after Bill had caught Harry and Severus together, and subsequently agreed to keep their relationship a secret, Harry and Draco decided it was high time to return home. Hedwig flew on ahead with a letter for Sirius, letting him know to expect them that day, while Harry and Draco painstakingly packed their belongings. Harry noted that Draco was seriously lacking a full wardrobe, and decided to ask Sirius if they could take him shopping.

Once both of them had stepped through the Floo from the Burrow and into Grimmauld Place, it was with warm hugs that they were received by Sirius, with Harry believing this living arrangement would be far better for Draco, now that he wasn’t living underneath the same roof as Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. Draco had been strangely penitent since the arrangement itself had been made, and Harry secretly wondered if Draco shouldn’t see a mind healer to work out the potential kinks in his brain.

Kreacher and Dobby were summoned almost immediately to take their trunks and other belongings upstairs, and Draco took the opportunity to look around the living room. Harry knew that Draco hadn’t been to Grimmauld since childhood, back when Walburga and Orion were still living, and likely saw a fair few differences between then and now. For one thing, the house was no longer as dark and brooding as it had been when Sirius had been hiding out there, before his pardon by the Wizengamot, and now, due to Harry’s influence, light had been brought back into the old house, and it was an altogether happier place to live.

“Let’s have some lunch, then, boys,” Sirius said, putting arms around both their shoulders and leading them into the kitchen.

“Remus!” Harry crowed, seeing the man at the table, Tonks sitting beside him. Harry charged forward, and Remus hugged him immediately.

“Wocher, Harry!” Tonks greeted, and embraced Harry next. She looked around Harry then, and slowly looked over Draco, a small smile coming to her lips as she let Harry go. “So, you’re my cousin Draco, then?” she asked, stepping forward.

Draco nodded, easing himself out from beneath Sirius’s arm, and stepped closer to Tonks, and put out his hand. “Yeah. Guess an order meeting wasn’t a good time for an introduction,” he joked, and was surprised when Tonks hugged him close.

“Mum has been so excited to find out you’ve moved in, which means that she took the opportunity to invite both me and Remus back home,” she said, laughing.

Draco’s pale brows shot upward. “I didn’t want to kick you out—!”

“You haven’t,” Tonks assured him, squeezing him tightly for a moment before letting him go and looking him up and down. “Although Mum and Dad _do_ want you to stop by for dinner at some point, if you’re open to it.”

Draco nodded at her. “Yeah, that’d be great...”

“They’d also _love_ to meet Ginny,” Tonks informed him. “She’s such a lovely girl, and she and I are so close, you see...”

Draco had to laugh at that. “Yes. She mentioned something about a duck...”

Immediately, Tonks’s face transformed into that of a duck’s bill, causing Draco and Harry to howl with laughter, while Remus and Sirius looked on indulgently. “Ask for any animal at any time,” Tonks informed him, once her mouth had returned to form. “I quite like putting on a show, myself.”

Remus and Tonks bid their farewells shortly thereafter, after letting Draco know again and again that he was not kicking them out of Grimmauld Place. Draco, however, had an air of guilt surrounding him as he sank into a chair at the table, opposite Harry, with Sirius at the head of the table in the middle of them. He listened carefully to the conversation Harry and Sirius were having, and thought to himself that they quite sounded like father and son, and wondered if he, too would ever have a healthy father/son relationship. His relationship with Lucius Malfoy had been less than healthy, he saw that now, and although he cared and respected Arthur Weasley greatly, it would be slightly odd to start addressing him as ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’, given that he was not yet married to Ginny...

“I’ve decided to put you in Regulus’s old bedroom,” Sirius was saying to Draco, who immediately snapped out of his reverie to pay attention. “Kreacher cleaned it up some for Remus and Tonks, but I’ve asked him to return to the Slytherin aesthetic on your behalf, if that’s agreeable to you, of course,” he said, and smiled.

Draco smiled then, finally a part of a conversation that didn’t make him uncomfortable. “Yes, yeah,” he said quickly, and made an effort to eat his ham and cheese sandwich and crisp lunch, which was surprisingly delicious. “That’s really very thoughtful of you to consider, Sirius. Thank you very much.”

“Not a problem at all,” Sirius assured him. “I thought that, after lunch, we could do a bit of shopping. Harry’s birthday celebrations are coming up, and we’ve all got to make sure that we’re dressed appropriately for it.”

Draco visibly flushed, and lowered his sandwich back down to his plate. “I... I’ve some dress robes that I got for Christmas. They’ll suffice,” he said softly.

“Nonsense,” Sirius said, cutting across Draco’s concerns. “Besides, they must have been winter dress robes, correct?”

Draco’s forehead puckered then as he lifted his head. “What difference does that make?” he asked, and Harry’s jaw dropped at the inquiry.

“All the difference in the world,” Sirius said patiently. “For one thing, winter dress robes are cut differently than summer ones. Then there’s the matter of fabric—winter ones are usually made from a thick wool, and summer ones from linen. Devon can be frightfully warm this time of year, Draco, and the ministry won’t take it too well that they’ve pushed my paperwork through, only for you to die of heatstroke. Molly wouldn’t like it either.”

Draco blinked, fully involved in the conversation now as he leaned forward. “Paperwork?” he asked then, cocking his head to one side. “I don’t understand. What paperwork?”

Sirius sighed; he obviously hadn’t meant to spill the beans so quickly, as it were. With a wave of his hand, a formal-looking document with the seal of the Ministry of Magic sailed into the room and landed upon the table, with the two teens immediately looking down upon it. “It is merely my paperwork that ensures my guardianship of Draco,” Sirius said softly, and Draco’s silver eyes snapped to Sirius’s. “I have the same paperwork for Harry, upstairs. Of course, Dumbledore helped in securing the meeting with the Wizengamot, which caused the paperwork to be pushed through so quickly... Oi!”

Draco, meanwhile, had launched to his feet and crossed towards Sirius, a blazing look in his silvery eyes, one that Harry recognized Ginny having many a time. Surprisingly, when Draco dove for Sirius then, he promptly threw his arms around him, and began weeping into his shoulder. “You’ve saved me, my dearest cousin!” he blubbered, sobbing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Harry took this opportunity to carefully lift his plate of lunch and glass of pumpkin juice and make a beeline for the kitchen door, and he immediately stepped into the hallway. He went quickly up the staircase, ignoring the location where Mrs. Black’s portrait had been, which seemed to be quite empty without her, and returned to his bedroom. He grinned at Hedwig, who was perched upon his wardrobe, and she hooted happily in greeting. Harry tossed a piece of ham from his own sandwich in her direction, which the beautiful owl gobbled up immediately.

Harry finished his lunch and washed his hands in the attached bathroom, before Dobby arrived in a seemingly automatic way and retrieved his dishes to bring down to the kitchen. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, Harry tossed in some powder, and whispered, “The private chambers of Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” and kept right on kneeling on his haunches to wait for the man to answer his call.

“Potter! What in Merlin’s name do you want?” Severus whispered, peering through the flames a moment later, his onyx eyes glaring at the Boy Who Lived.

“Severus, it’s only me,” Harry whispered back.

Severus visibly relaxed than and nodded at his lover. “Good,” he said, and quickly had a smile for the younger man. “What is it? Are you back at Grimmauld?”

Harry nodded at Severus. “Yes. Draco and I arrived just an hour ago.”

Severus looked warmly at Harry, and Harry felt that familiar thrumming from within him whenever his lover gave him such a look. “And how is it, being back home?”

Harry called back the words he so wanted to speak, that his home was with Severus, as he had quickly convinced himself that it was far too soon to be making such declarations. “There is a new development,” he said softly.

Severus shifted from behind the flames. “Is Mr. Weasley blackmailing you, or has he changed his mind?”

Harry immediately shook his head. “No,” he assured Severus. “Nothing like that.”

“Very well,” Severus replied with a smile. “What has happened, then?”

“Draco is to be living here at Grimmauld Place with us,” Harry said quietly, and immediately noticed that Severus’s brows raised practically to his hairline. “Is that all right? I know he is your godson, but...”

“But he will be much safer at Grimmauld,” Severus informed Harry. “The Dark Lord would likely want me to get a suit for custody, so as I could hand over Draco to him. Not that I would ever do that,” Severus said quickly, “but there is also the matter of Sirius being blood family to Draco, and a reasonable choice to help raise the boy, insomuch as Draco—or you, Harry—need raising, so late in the game, as it were.”

Harry leaned in closer to the flames. “Riddle won’t be angry at you, will he?” he whispered, suddenly fearful about the serpentine man’s reaction.

Severus shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I can easily say that I was unaware of Black’s intentions for Draco previously. If I had no knowledge of it, through no fault of my own, the Dark Lord will, perhaps, be generous.”

Harry sighed, worrying his lower lip as he looked down at the carpet he knelt upon. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said quietly.

“Harry, I am a spy for the Light,” Severus said simply. “I knew this operation was dangerous the moment I agreed to it on Dumbledore’s behalf.”

Harry looked up then, hating it when his lower lip trembled. “I want to believe you, but...”

“But what, Harry?”

“I’m scared,” Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if something happens to you? I couldn’t bear it...”

“Harry, even if something were to happen to me, it wouldn’t matter, because you’re young and resilient. You would do just fine without me—”

“No!” Harry shouted then, very close to coming undone at the prospect of it all. “Don’t say that, Severus, ever! I couldn’t go on without you, I know I couldn’t!”

“Harry...”

“You’re too important,” Harry said, the tears streaming down his face then before he managed to call them back. “You’re too important to me, Severus. Please. Don’t go...”

“I’m only doing what I swore to Dumbledore I would, Harry,” Severus said gently. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Harry sucked his lower lip into his mouth then, and heard Severus gasping at the action. “I care for you, Severus, so much,” he whispered. “I don’t want to go on without you. I don’t. I don’t think I could anymore...”

Severus reached through the flames then, and wrapped his arm briefly around Harry’s wrist, before Harry turned his hand to clasp at the potion master’s. “I’m not going anywhere unwillingly, Harry,” Severus replied, his tone steady. “I find I am not prepared to leave you myself, and so I shall not do so.”

Harry’s heart thrummed then, both at the physical contact, and because of the tenderness in Severus’s words. “I believe you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“Always, Harry,” Severus told him, and gave him a tentative smile. “Always.”

~*~

Harry found that he was delighted two days later when Sirius informed both him and Draco that he and Remus had yet another mission for the order. Draco suggested that Severus be the one to look in on them and, given his connection with Draco, Sirius agreed. Harry was pleased that Draco had settled into life at Grimmauld so quickly, and knew that Draco had been in his element the day before, when they had completed their shopping trip, which had spanned two days, as Draco was so persuasive about getting everyone a new wardrobe, not just him.

Sirius and Remus left after tea time on the afternoon in question, as they had done for their last mission, and Draco had wandered upstairs to the library to get some of his summer assignments done. Harry, just like the time before, had sent out Dobby to the shops, intent upon making dinner again. Kreacher had prepared the dining room, setting the table for three this time, and Harry was pleased at the results from the senior house-elf. When Dobby had returned from the shops, Harry excused him to return to the rest of his chores, while he set about preparing dinner.

That evening, on the menu was poulet rôti, gratin dauphinois, green beans with tomatoes, and a bottle of 1996 Chateau Mouton Rothschild which had been imported from Pauillac, France. It would be a delightful pudding as well, with crème brûlée being on the menu that evening for that aspect of the meal. Harry moved about the kitchen, seasoning the chicken accordingly, slicing the potatoes, and chopping off the ends of the green beans. He washed the tomatoes expertly, as well as preparing the gruyere and cheddar cheeses, which had been aged accordingly, and, quite soon, the kitchen smelled incredible.

Severus Floo’d into Grimmauld around seven, when the chicken and potatoes were in the oven already, and the green beans were under a Stasis Charm—placed by Kreacher. Harry was busily preparing the crème brûlée, and so wasn’t wholly paying attention to the goings-on around the house, as he was completely in the zone of cooking. When he felt a pair of hands going around his waist, however, as well as the telltale feeling of lips at his neck, Harry let out an indulgent sound and immediately whipped around, throwing his arms around Severus and snogging him for all he was worth.

“I take it I was missed?” Severus asked, his tone riddled with amusement.

Harry nodded up at him, arching himself closer to his lover. “Yes. I always miss you when we have to be apart, Severus.”

Severus smiled, not taking his hands from Harry’s waist, but he did lift his nose into the air to inhale Harry’s dinner offering. “And what are we having this evening, Harry? It smells delicious, whatever it is.”

Harry flushed at the compliment. “Poulet rôti, gratin dauphinois, green beans with tomatoes, crème brûlée for pudding, and this,” he said, nodding to the bottle of wine, which was placed on the counter beside him.

“French cuisine, then?” Severus asked, nodding with approval.

“Have you been?” Harry asked. “To France.”

Severus nodded. “Mostly for purposes related to my brewing, and never for pure recreation,” he replied. “I’ve often thought of buying property out there, however.”

Harry grinned at that. “Maybe when the war is over, we can go,” he replied.

Severus returned his glance to Harry then, and, although he seemed slightly taken aback at the notion that Harry seemed in this for the long haul, said, “Yes. That would be lovely.”

“Severus!” came Draco’s shout as the sixteen-year-old all but flew down the stairs, and Severus immediately broke away from Harry, who subsequently handed over the wine bottle. “Severus,” Draco said, much more reserved when he entered the kitchen, and threw his arms around the man. “Ooh, wine,” he said, and snatched at the bottle, opening it effortlessly and pouring three glasses. “Imported from France, eh?” he asked Harry.

Harry nodded, returning to the task of preparing the pudding. “Yes,” he replied, giving Severus a secret smile when Draco was distracted by the drink.

“Mr. Potter was just enlightening me as to what was on the dinner menu this evening,” Severus put in, accepting his glass from Draco and sipping it. “It appears as though we are to be dining on French cuisine this evening.”

“Harry’s a master in the kitchen,” Draco told him. “He likes to cook at least one meal a day, when Kreacher lets him, that is. Everyone wants some of his cooking. It’s a shame the house-elves see it as an imposition if someone wants to help at Hogwarts...”

“Draco, you know very well that you have to serve detention in the kitchens,” Harry said patiently, stopping in his preparation of the pudding and sipping his wine, and mentally congratulated himself on the selection he’d made that evening. “Besides, it’s seen as an invasion of their territory. Here, at least, Kreacher and Dobby know better that we’re not out for their jobs.”

Draco sniffed. “Isn’t French cuisine the hardest?”

“Not necessarily,” Severus put in, “although they are thought to be the best country in the world when it comes to their food.” The potions master hesitated for a moment. “Although I still find it to be remarkable, Potter, that you are so adept at cooking, and so helpless at potions...”

“Not so anymore, Severus,” Draco said quickly. “Remember? Ever since Harry and I partnered up in class last term, things have been going rather swimmingly.”

Severus turned and regarded his godson with the mere arch of an eyebrow. “And how about the rumors that you were responsible for Potter’s botched potions, Draco? What do you have to say about that? Throwing ingredients into Potter’s cauldron that didn’t belong there...”

Draco sighed, staring into the deep red color of his wine. “It was mostly Crabbe and Goyle that did it,” he said softly, and Harry readily believed him, knowing that Draco would have no reason to lie about such a thing now. “I only did it a handful of times to fit in. You know how children of Death Eaters can be. You have to do a lot, just to fit in...”

“It’s all right, Draco,” Harry said gently to the blond Slytherin. “I know you didn’t mean it. And working with you... Well, I enjoy it,” he said, and smiled at him.

Draco immediately perked up at that. “Thanks,” he said, before turning back to Severus. “So, any chance of letting us in on what advanced potions are going to be next term?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You, Mr. Malfoy, are incorrigible.”

Once dinner was finished, and Harry got Kreacher to agree to see to the rest of the pudding, the trio moved from the kitchen and into the dining room. Harry, as master of Grimmauld Place when Sirius was away, moved to sit at the head of the table, while Severus, as the senior member of the party, sat at the foot. Draco took the seat between them and waited patiently for Dobby to send in their dinner, which he regarded eagerly as soon as it had arrived. Harry smiled, lowering his eyes onto his plate as he waited to be served; of course, he did want Draco to enjoy his meal, but he secretly cared about Severus’s mindset far more.

“How are you adjusting to Grimmauld, Draco?” Severus asked, spearing bite of green beans onto his fork, and keeping his attention firmly upon his godson.

“I like living here a lot,” Draco replied, cutting into his piece of chicken. “It’s not as stuffy as the manor... And there are only two house-elves here. Plus, there’s Harry for company,” he said, flashing Harry a quick smile.

Harry grinned. “Growing up without a sibling is something we have in common,” he told Draco, liking the fact that it was something Draco understood.

“You had that cousin, though... David?” Draco queried.

“Dudley,” Harry said quietly. “Pig with hair, if you ever saw one.” Harry smirked. “You know, when Hagrid came and found me, and told me that I was a wizard, he cursed Dudley to have a pigs’ tail.”

Severus blinked. “Improper Use of Magic, then, Potter?”

Harry sighed. “Yes,” he muttered.

Severus moved his potatoes around his plate. “Am I to assume he used that wretched-looking, pink umbrella of his?”

Harry gave a slight nod. “You are.”

Severus gave a slow nod. “And what, pray tell, did your cousin do to warrant such a curse being placed upon him?”

“Ate my birthday cake,” Harry said simply with a shrug. “I’d never celebrated a proper birthday before, you see. Well, not that I can recollect. My parents were killed three months after my first one, so I assume I had a proper one then...”

“You did,” Severus said softly.

Harry blinked. “I did?”

“Yes. I had a note from your mother. Black apparently gifted you with a little flying broom, and it was your favorite toy,” Severus said, his voice sounding very far away.

“Sounds like I had a good life,” Harry observed, shuffling his dinner around and around on his plate, thinking it over.

“You did,” Severus said, his tone still far away. He cleared his throat then, eating another few bites before he turned to Draco. “Has the house changed much? I seem to recall Lucius informing me a handful of times that you were here, when he and I had to go to various Death Eater meetings together...”

Draco nodded. “Yes. Mum... Narcissa took me here a handful of times before I started at Hogwarts, when I was little, and far more incorrigible than I am now. Aunt Walburga always frightened me, and her portrait was no better. I think the artist captured her quite well,” he said quietly.

Severus chuckled darkly. “Yes. She was a rather frightening woman...”

“You knew Walburga, professor?” Harry asked tentatively, hoping that Severus wouldn’t be too terribly rude in Draco’s presence.

Severus nodded. “I did, yes, Potter,” he replied. “I was close friends with Regulus Black, despite the age difference—he was two years behind me at Hogwarts. However, he was adept at potions, and was a Slytherin, so forming a friendship with him wasn’t too terribly difficult.”

“Aunt Walburga didn’t mind the friendship, then?” Draco queried, while Harry took the opportunity to eat his dinner.

“On Hogwarts grounds, she could not protest,” Severus said quietly. “However, I was not permitted ever to visit. Being a Half-Blood, I was considered dirty and filthy, and so I was not a worthy candidate to be friends with her son...”

“Was there anything else between you, Severus?” Draco asked, looking curious. “I mean, you speak of him so fondly. You hardly ever talk about anyone so fondly...”

“Regulus and I... Well, I suppose one can say that he and I were lovers,” Severus said softly, and Harry stiffened.

“Lovers? You and Cousin Regulus?” Draco said. “Wow. I never would have paired you together, despite the Slytherin status, liking of potions, and Death Eater commonality...”

“Yes, well,” Severus replied, chuckling. “He was a lovely friend to me, and the friendship inevitably grew, to the point where it was rather intoxicating...”

Harry dropped his cutlery onto his plate then, not caring how it looked, and got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said softly then. “I’m feeling unwell.” He brought his dishes into the kitchen, where he handed them off to Kreacher to clean. “I won’t be having pudding tonight, Kreacher,” Harry told him then.

“Master Harry is unwell?” the elf asked.

Harry nodded, seeing a dead ferret on a platter, and assumed that it was for the hippogriff residing in the attic. “I’ll take this,” he said softly, and gathered up the platter, and immediately left the kitchen and climbed the staircase, all the way to the top, where he reached the attic. He let himself inside and shut the door, bowing to the hippogriff who was in the room, and Witherwings afforded him the same treatment. Harry thrust up the platter into the air, which sent the ferret flying as well, and Witherwings immediately caught it as it flew. “Good job, Beaky,” he said, knowing that the hippogriff felt pleased when the pet name Hagrid called him was used. Harry sank into the chair, watching as the hippogriff chewed at his dinner, ripping the carcass of the ferret expertly, and lowered his eyes, not particularly wanting to see the dead weasel’s entrails.

“Harry.”

Harry didn’t look up as Severus stepped into the attic, and barely watched as the man bowed to Witherwings, before he sank into the chair beside Harry. “Yes?” he asked, his tone clipped. His fingers had knotted themselves together in his anxiety, and his cheeks bloomed visibly when Severus had sat beside him.

Severus sighed, his shoulders deflating as he itched to take Harry’s hand, but made no moves to reach out and do so. “I apologize for not informing you about Regulus. You informed me of your previous feelings for Diggory, as well as for your attraction to Charles Weasley—and his subsequent kissing of you, which was through no fault of your own. I... I should have confided in you about my past lovers...”

“Have there been more than one?” Harry snapped.

“I am a man, Harry,” Severus said slowly, “a man who is in his thirties, one who had time on his hands, when I am not gathering research, brewing, spying, or teaching. I had a life before you, as you had before me, but I do hope that it does not mean you won’t care for me any longer.”

Harry turned and looked over at Severus. “I think I’ll always care for you.”

“Harry?”

Harry bit his lower lip but forced the words to come. “You know, it really hurt, the way you were speaking to Draco about Regulus,” he confessed.

“Harry, that was long in the past,” Severus assured him. “Regulus has been gone close to twenty years, and I’ve hardly spent that time constantly pining for him.”

“I’m sure you had a past, Severus, and I would never dispute that, nor wish for you to forget about it, or begrudge you of it, for it ultimately led us to each other,” Harry replied. “However, I’ll admit that it made me jealous and insecure, listening to you talk about Regulus like that. It made me think that...”

“What, Harry?”

“That I couldn’t measure up to him,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders.

Severus reached out automatically then, taking Harry’s hand. “You more than measure up, Harry, although you are quite different than Regulus.”

Harry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Well, then, I suppose I’m worried that I won’t be able to please you, due to my inexperience...”

Severus got to his feet then, and immediately pulled Harry up with him. “I don’t want you to worry about anything like that, Harry,” the man said gently, caressing the side of Harry’s face and smiling down at him. “You know why? Because I believe it shall be different, once I claim you completely.”

“Different?” Harry breathed. “How?”

“Well, I anticipate making love to you,” Severus said simply. “I’ve never made love before, not in the entirety of my life, with any of the people I shared my bed with. Not that mutual respect wasn’t given, but we didn’t harbor the deep feelings that you and I harbor for one another. I think it mainly has to do with the fact that we’ve waited, and I thank Merlin for it, as I would never wish to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

Harry took a tentative step closer. “I do want it,” he admitted. He tilted his chin up then, and stared boldly into Severus’s eyes. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted it,” he whispered, and Severus dragged him closer still, and tasted Harry deeply, his tongue easily conquering Harry’s own, as he pulled the teen lengthwise against him.

“Severus, have you seen Harry—? Oh, Merlin!”

Harry and Severus broke apart for the second time that week, and Harry felt his face turning to the color of a ripe tomato as he regarded his surrogate brother. “Draco...”

“Draco,” Severus tried next.

“Wait,” Draco said, throwing up both his hands. “How long have you two been...?”

“Since the order meeting earlier this summer,” Harry admitted, shuffling from foot to foot. “I mean, you seemed all right with it...”

Severus snapped his eyes onto Harry. “He knew?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Draco snapped. “I just thought it was evident that Harry had feelings for you, and that he should address them, now that there’s a war on.” He hesitated for a moment before he turned back to Harry. “He makes you happy?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

Draco nodded back shortly then before he turned to Severus. “And Harry? He makes you happy as well, Severus?”

Severus nodded, and Harry’s heart began thrumming again when Severus took his hand in his, the callused, ink-stained fingers wrapping around his smaller hand and making him feel more secure than he had in his entire life. “He does.”

Draco sighed, still standing in the doorway. “Very well, then. I suppose it would do more harm than good to reveal this—what with your spying and the rules from the Wizengamot and all—so I’ll say nothing.”

Harry blinked. “Really?”

“Of course, really,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes at the alternative. “You’re my friend, Harry, and you offered me safety and sanctuary when I believed that nobody besides the Weasleys would. You talked me out of becoming a full-fledged Death Eater before it was too late, and, best of all, you accepted my apologies and befriended me without question. This, I think, more than makes up for all you’ve done for me.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re right.”

“And Severus,” Draco said, “far be it from me to tell you not to seek companionship where it makes you happy.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you, Draco.”

Draco sighed, shaking his head, and turned around, making his way back down the staircase, muttering to himself about legality within the Wizarding World, while Harry and Severus shared a laugh at their good fortune once again.

~*~

It had been three wonderful days since Severus had arrived at Grimmauld, and Sirius and Remus had informed both Harry and Draco that they wouldn’t be back until the day before Harry’s sixteenth birthday. With Draco out at the Burrow for the weekend to give Harry some time alone with Severus—under the pretense that he was teaching Harry some defense maneuvers for the upcoming battle, whenever that proved to be—something within Harry had shifted.

He got out of bed that morning and went down to the kitchen, thanking Kreacher for the fresh fruit and toast for breakfast. When Severus came down himself, Harry promptly excused himself and went upstairs to take a shower. He continued in this vein all day—eating his sandwich lunch in the library, away from the kitchen, and catching up on his various summer homework assignments—and successfully avoided Severus until dinner. Finally, when dinner came, Harry found himself in the kitchen preparing a roast, as it was Sunday evening, alongside some boiled potatoes and roasted veg. He even managed to throw together a jam roly-poly for pudding, and kept his mind on dinner, paired with a white sparkling wine this time around.

Once dinner was finished and Harry and Severus sat at the table, at the head and foot of it respectively, Harry forced himself to eat. He was hungry, that was true, but he also wanted to delay the conversation he knew the man would want to have as soon as possible. It needed to be done, he knew that, as for people in their situation, for not having a conversation about a topic so important within a relationship was detrimental for the future—

“I must admit that I’m surprised to find you here, having dinner with me,” Severus observed quietly, as he cut of his roast into bite-sized pieces.

Harry blinked, lowering his wine glass. “Why?”

“It’s plain to see that you’ve been ignoring me throughout the day,” Severus replied. He took a bite of the roast and chewed it slowly, before he swallowed and lowered his cutlery. “Harry, please, tell me what is bothering you.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat; the Black family had never been known to have comfort in mind when it came to their household furniture, and Harry knew from Sirius that he and Regulus would cast Cushioning Charms upon various pieces. Thankfully, upon Sirius winning his suit for custody of Harry, they’d begun doing various forms of renovations throughout the house, and the furniture was the first to go. While still keeping in line with pieces that were dated accordingly to when the house was built, they were far more comfortable than they had been during Sirius’s childhood.

“I’m not sure you want to hear it,” Harry admitted at last.

Severus steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Harry, if this is an elaborate way to tell me that you have considered Charles Weasley’s offer at length, and you wish to end things with me, please inform me of it now.”

Harry subsequently dropped his cutlery. “I don’t want Charlie!” he cried out then. “I want you, Severus, only you!”

Severus blinked. “You do?”

“Yes, I...” He lowered his eyes then, his cheeks flushing profusely. “I can’t wait anymore,” he admitted, and hunched his shoulders slightly then, awaiting rejection.

“Wait for what?”

“You,” Harry said, and his green eyes snapped up, meeting Severus’s onyx ones, layers of hunger and desperation swimming from within. “I want you. I want you to make love to me, Severus. Tonight.”

Severus looked shocked at the very suggestion. “Harry, do you know what it is you’re asking of me?” he whispered.

Harry nodded at him without hesitation. “Yes, I do,” he whispered. “I want you to make love to me, Severus Snape. I want you to claim me as yours. I want to be yours fully. Please... Severus, make love to me,” Harry said, gripping the edge of the expensive, cherry wood dining table.

Severus swallowed. “You’re sure?”

Harry nodded, this time the gesture more emphatic than ever before. “Yes. I mean, unless you don’t want to,” he whispered, hoping that that wasn’t the case.

Severus promptly got to his feet then and crossed around the table, before he offered Harry a hand, and pulled him up and out of the chair, once Harry had taken it. “I do hope I have never given you any clear indication that that is the case, Harry,” he whispered, and smiled when Harry promptly arched up against him. “Of course I want you.”

Harry allowed Severus to lead him from the dining room and down the hallway, and the pair immediately ascended the staircase shortly thereafter. The thrumming had returned from the moment Severus had taken his hand, and did not stop until they arrived at his bedroom door. It wasn’t a difficult task to open it, and Harry promptly pulled Severus inside, kicking the door shut behind them, whereupon he threw himself into Severus’s arms, wrapping his own arms around the man’s neck and snogging him deeply.

Severus smirked against Harry’s lips, and at his eagerness, as he slowly walked the teen backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed. He lifted his hands towards the buttons of the green short-sleeved button-down he wore, while Harry subsequently rutted up against Severus, showing him that he was hard and wanted this as much as he did. Severus made quick work of disposing of Harry’s shirt, and then proceeded to unzip the jeans he wore, which made Harry pull back, and he shimmied out of them himself, before he climbed up and onto the bed, yanking off his shoes and socks, until he lay there in his green boxers.

Severus felt himself gazing down hungrily at the teenager, and proceeded to do away with his nondescript, summer black robes, until he, too, stood there, clad only in boxers. The only difference was, he mused as he climbed onto the bed and was over Harry, that his were black and matched his own eyes. He smirked down at the fifteen-year-old, and licked his lips, his expression not changing as Harry rutted against his thigh.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

“Make love to me,” Harry replied.

Severus gave nod. “How do you...?”

“I want you inside me,” he breathed, and Severus nearly expired on the spot.

Severus stuck out his hand then, and a jar of his self-made lubricant instantly smacked into his palm, before he bent down and tasted Harry’s lips again. “Are you sure?” he whispered, peppering ghost-like kisses along Harry’s jaw.

“Merlin, yes,” Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensations that Severus evoked, not only from his lips, but with his voice as well. “Want this... Want you...”

Severus smiled then, and gently eased off the boys’ boxers, followed by his own. He pressed kisses from Harry’s lips, onto his ears, and sucked at his collarbone, before he continued downward, his lips caressing the bronzed, muscled skin. He stiffened then when Harry took ahold of his arm, and traced at the Dark Mark which had been branded there nearly two decades before. “Harry...” Severus whispered, and his tone was a warning.

“It’s all right,” Harry said softly then, pulling at the man’s arm, and pressing kiss after kiss to the mark itself, and slowly, softly, his tongue came out to play, and he traced every inch of it onto the mark, like a balm.

“Merlin, Harry...” Severus groaned.

“Just because it is a part of you, doesn’t make it a permanent one,” Harry whispered, his eyes meeting Severus’s.

Severus stared at Harry for a moment, before he dropped the lubricant onto the bed, and wrapped his arms around Harry, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips. “I adore you,” he whispered.

Harry let out a startled gasp then at the man’s words. “I adore you, too,” he replied, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust within their respective mouths.

Severus continued in this vein before he took ahold of the tub of lubricant again, and bent down towards Harry’s crotch. He licked at the tantalizing bit of pre-come which had come out to play at the tip of his lover’s erect member, and smirked at the mewl which Harry emitted in response to his tongue. He pushed up Harry’s legs, and Harry hastily moved to grab ahold of them, before he bent down even further, and casted a quick Cleaning Charm upon Harry’s entrance. From there, he pressed forward, and gently teased at the furl of the opening with his tongue.

“Severus?!” Harry squeaked at the sudden, unfamiliar, intrusion. However, the tongue, which was speared like a small cock, pressed delicately against his opening, to the point where Harry relaxed, and allowed the muscle inside him. “Oh... Oh, Merlin,” he moaned wantonly, arching closer and closer to the beautiful sensation.

Severus went right on lapping at Harry’s arse, cheered on by the moans and other delightful sounds that Harry made above him. When he lubed up a finger and added it to the mix, Harry very nearly rocketed off the bed. However, he planted his feet on either side of Severus’s head, keeping control of himself as Severus continued his ministrations. As he continued, he added a second finger and, finally, a third into the equation, and Harry didn’t let up in his deep moans of pleasure from what Severus was doing.

“Oh... Oh, more!” Harry begged, spearing himself onto all the man’s fingers, and his tongue, his toes curling and his eyes threatening to roll backwards and into his head.

Severus carefully withdrew his fingers and slicked up his erection, and banished the lubricant onto the bedside table. He positioned himself at Harry’s stretched entrance, and hesitated for a moment. “Harry, are you ready?” he whispered.

“Yes!” Harry whined, arching as close as he could. “Please, Severus, please. I need you inside me now, please!”

Severus caressed Harry’s flanks before he gently eased himself into the tight heat of his lover, and continued in the slow, caressing manner as Harry tensed around him. “Breathe, my Harry,” he whispered, and felt relieved when Harry sank downwards and into the mattress. “That’s it, love, just breathe and be calm. It will be over soon, I promise.”

Harry nodded his head; he knew he was inexperienced, but didn’t want to make this into a bad time for Severus. He wondered how Regulus had proved to be in bed, and hoped that Severus wouldn’t think that Harry’s ultimate performance would be lacking in any way. He shifted slightly then as Severus buried himself inside him to the hilt, and kept breathing through it, and knew, after a few moments, that it was now or never.

“You can move now, Severus,” he whispered.

Severus nodded, never taking his eyes off Harry’s. “Very well,” he replied, and slowly pulled outwards then, before he slammed himself back inside.

Harry gasped then, feeling the tip of Severus’s prick colliding with something inside him, which made his vision go white for a moment, and caused that delicious thrumming feeling to erupt all over his body. “What...? What was...?” He whispered to Severus.

“Ah, the prostate, Harry,” Severus replied. “Stimulation of it can drive a man mad.”

Harry grinned, enjoying the sensation. “Again,” he whispered.

Severus grinned, and did so, again and again, thrusting his hips repeatedly into Harry’s opening, and doing his best to hit that same spot each time. He grabbed ahold of Harry’s own hips so as he wouldn’t lose the sweet spot which drove Harry mad, and continued in this manner for several uninterrupted minutes. However, when Harry let out a series of gasps, and tightened around Severus’s cock, he knew that the end was near.

“Harry... Merlin, Harry!” Severus groaned, pulling Harry upwards as he continued to pound into him, and wrapped his arms around the younger man.

“Severus... My Severus,” Harry wailed, and pressed his lips to the potion master’s. “Don’t stop, please! Please, don’t stop!” he begged, his voice a desperate plea.

“Never, my Harry, never,” Severus assured him, Harry’s proud erection slapping their respective bellies between them. “Close?” he whispered.

“Yes, yes,” Harry said, struggling to breathe, due to the fact that he was panting so hard, and meeting Severus thrust for thrust.

“Close,” Severus informed Harry then, and stiffened as Harry promptly tightened around his shaft once again.

“Oh... Merlin! Severus... _Fuck_!” Harry roared then, arching himself so that he was bent in half, Severus’s erection brushing his prostate one last time, as copious amounts of come spurted between the two of them, saturating both their bellies.

“Harry!” Severus growled, coming inside Harry, the picture Harry painted below him—bitten lips, pupils blown, flushed cheeks—along with his expression when he achieved orgasm was enough to send Severus over the edge. Minutely, Severus withdrew from Harry and waved his hand, casting a wandless and wordless Cleaning Charm, and lay down beside him.

Harry promptly shuffled over, and Severus’s arm came up, wrapping around him, as Harry nestled into Severus, still sensitive in the afterglow of their lovemaking. “That was bloody incredible,” he whispered, and Severus readily sensed that his young lover was still trembling from it all.

“Sleep,” Severus whispered, noticing that his eyes were growing heavy, and charmed the blanket to wrap around them both.

“Severus?” Harry whispered.

“Yes?” Severus asked, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

Harry pressed a kiss to Severus’s chest in return. “Thank you,” he whispered, before sleep took him then.

~*~

Harry’s eyes snapped open the following morning, and spotted a tray positioned at his desk across the room. Each tray boasted a small plate of toast, two bowls of fruit, and a small platter of rashers. Harry got out of bed and moved towards it, putting a few pieces of fruit into his mouth, and found that the sweetness of the berries woke him up accordingly.

Upon turning around, however, he suddenly realized that Severus was still in bed. His heart pounded then, knowing that the man was due to return to Hogwarts that day, one day before Sirius and Remus were due to return to Grimmauld. Looking outside and up into the sky, he deduced it was well after ten o’clock in the morning, and knew that Dumbledore would likely come to the Islington residence of the House of Black to make sure that his potions master hadn’t gone rogue.

This likely included bedding the Boy Who Lived.

Hardly thinking, Harry dashed across the room and made grabs for all of Severus’s clothing and folded them expertly into his trunk. He pulled out a fresh pair of robes for the man and laid them upon the edge of the bed, before he ran to Severus’s side and shook him gently by the shoulder, his heart pounding with anxiety. “Severus? Severus!” he hissed.

Severus’s eyes snapped open then and he bolted upright, making a grab for his wand from the bedside table. “Harry, what is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“You said Dumbledore expected you back today before noon,” Harry said quickly. “It’s gone ten o’clock now. I didn’t think you’d want the headmaster to see that we’ve...well...”

Severus’s features softened then and he promptly moved to wind his hands around Harry’s waist. “Always thinking of me and my well-being, are we?”

Harry sighed, loving the sensation of Severus’s callused hands upon him as he rested his head above the man’s heart. “I’m always thinking about _you_ , Severus,” he replied. “Especially now that we’ve...”

“Made love,” Severus supplied, raising his hands from Harry’s waist to caress each cheek with both his hands.

Harry worried his lower lip. “I...”

“Yes, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes met Severus’s then, and he wavered for just a moment, nibbling at his lip, before he all but forced himself to speak to his lover before him. “Things are going to be different...”

Severus smiled, gently pulling Harry’s lower lip from his teeth with his thumb. “Yes, but we knew that before, Harry,” the man replied patiently.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. We could have lacked chemistry from the moment we had our first kiss...”

Severus smirked. “I assure you that lack of chemistry was the furthest thing from my mind the first time we kissed, Harry.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Was it?” he asked.

Severus chuckled. “Well, yes, of course. Had we lacked chemistry, I would have been much worse towards you, had you attempted to do so again and again. However, there was so much chemistry, from that first moment, that it truly frightened me.”

“Because of your spy status, and you getting sacked, you mean?”

“Partially,” Severus admitted. “Of course, my main priority was you.”

“Me? You thought I’d be ruining my life?”

“Not exactly, although it did cross my mind,” Severus replied. “It mainly had to do with a vow I made to Dumbledore, when I went turncoat against the Death Eaters.”

“A vow to spy, you mean?”

“No, although it was part of the vow I made. However, I believed the most important part of the vow I made was you, Harry.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I swore to protect you back in 1981, Harry, and although I had no idea the journey my protection would ultimately take the both of us, I am not unhappy with the results.”

Harry pressed closer to Severus then, that thrumming feeling within him coming back like a lightning storm, and it was one that he never wanted to give up. “I am not unhappy with the results either, my Severus,” he whispered, and hopped up into the man’s lap, where the man was quick to devour his mouth before more words could be spoken between them.


	10. Fall From Grace

When Sirius and Remus returned to Grimmauld Place, Tonks immediately arrived behind them and conjured some extended Wizard Space upstairs to accommodate Remus. Even though they were now residing at the residence of Ted and Andromeda Tonks full time, Tonks didn’t want her parents to have to deal with Remus’s affliction with the full moon. As such, Sirius agreed to accommodate the couple at Grimmauld, with strict instructions, directed at Harry and Draco, to not disturb Remus during the change, which each teenage boy understood completely.

Lunchtime the day before Harry’s sixteenth birthday found Harry and Draco sitting outside in the balmy sunshine. Kreacher and Dobby had brought them a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of sandwiches, while they lounged in the shade of the massive and impressive oak trees. Draco was sipping at his glass of lemonade, while Harry was casually nibbling at a bacon sandwich. There was no need for the pair of them to speak, however, it was plain to see that the two teenagers clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

There was a spark of magic from inside the Islington home about a quarter of an hour later and, much to Harry and Draco’s surprise, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George all bounded out of the ancestral Black family home and into the yard. Draco immediately sprung to his feet, placing the lemonade onto the bistro table nearby, and caught up Ginny in his arms, snogging her in an effective manner, while Fred and George chuckled, Hermione smiled, and Ron visibly grimaced at the display.

Harry got to his feet shortly thereafter, and was passed around back and forth, with each member of the Weasley family, plus Hermione, moving forward to hug him. “Couldn’t wait until my birthday tomorrow, eh?” he joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and immediately moved to brush the lingering crumbs off from Harry’s blue button-down with her long, tapered fingers. “Oh, honestly, Harry. You’re as bad as Ron sometimes,” she said, and proceeded to wrinkle her nose.

Ron draped an arm around Harry’s shoulder and ruffled his hair, which was sticking up in all directions as per usual. “Let the man live, ‘Mione,” he playfully scolded his girlfriend, who let out a scoff, and leaned into Ginny’s side, who was holding onto Draco’s hand. “And of course we couldn’t wait until your birthday, mate.”

Fred grinned at Harry. “And Mum may have Fire-Called Sirius, requesting...”

“Demanding,” George put in.

“...that Sirius allow the four of us to come here for the day,” Fred finished.

“Were you getting in the way?” Harry asked.

Ginny grinned. “Hermione and I weren’t,” she told him.

“But Mrs. Weasley thought we’d all want to see you here at Grimmauld, after she banished those two for tampering with the party decorations,” Hermione said in a rush, as she wagged a finger at Fred and George, “and this one,” she went on, jabbing a finger in Ron’s direction, “for taking one too many tastes of the food for tomorrow.”

Ron sputtered at the accusation, while Fred and George immediately held up their hands in mock-surrender. “She didn’t specify—!” Ron began, his ears turning red.

“You were _repeatedly_ tasting the _batter_ , Ronald Weasley!” Hermione said, throwing her hands up into the air. “What was your mum supposed to think?!”

“Well, erm...” Ron began.

“She called you an ‘impatient child’, don’t deny it,” Hermione put in.

Ginny dragged her trainer along the cobblestone ground of the garden. “I think the world ‘greedy’ was also put in there,” she remarked, and Draco casually snaked a hand around her waist, pressing repeated kisses to her temple in an attempt to stave off his laughter, and Ginny flushed becomingly at the attention.

“Who’s helping your mum now?” Harry asked, knowing that moving forward in the conversation would, perhaps, prevent a fight between Ron and Hermione.

“Bill and Fleur,” Ginny put in, rolling her eyes a little at the mention of her eldest brother’s serious girlfriend. “All they really wanted was to get on her good side, and Fleur thought she could do that by providing Mum with some of her Veela grandmother’s special French pastry recipes for your party tomorrow, which are rumored to be top-secret...”

Harry blinked. “Why would they want to get on her good side? They work in Diagon Alley, and they’ve got that little flat near where Fred and George live...”

“They want something out of Mum, mate,” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“What do they want?” Harry queried.

“Our aunt, Mum’s aunt, really, Tessie, owned property in Tinworth,” George explained, all proper-like, and Harry got the distinct impression that Tessie—whom Ron claimed his dress robes for the Yule Ball smelled like, as well as made him look like in fourth-year—was quite a proper woman.

“Shell Cottage,” Ron said from beside Harry.

“They want your great-aunt’s house?” Harry asked.

“She died twenty years back, and our uncles, Mum’s brothers, hid out there during the First Wizarding War, before Death Eaters caught them, tortured them for information, and killed them,” Ron remarked softly, and Ginny cuddled closer to Draco at that, who loathed hearing about Death Eater activity, and it was plain to see that he still blamed himself for all of his family’s misdeeds throughout the centuries.

“So, they want the house, then?” Harry pressed.

“Something like that,” Fred said quietly.

George rolled his eyes. “Mum probably wants them to be married before they even think about getting a proper house...”

“But it’s not like Bill would ever stoop so low to marry someone like phlegm,” Ginny said, and Hermione laughed at Ginny’s nickname for Fleur.

“They probably also want Great-Aunt Lucretia’s ring,” Ron said, and rolled his eyes.

“Lucretia?” Harry asked, recognizing the name from the Black family tree. “She married into the Prewett family, didn’t she?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. Now since Sirius is raising you proper-like, it makes all of us family,” he said proudly.

“Not _so_ close family, thank you very much,” Ginny snapped, snuggling in closer to Draco and glaring at Ron, almost as if she was daring him to attempt at separating them.

“The ring is very similar to that of... What was it again, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, and Harry came to the conclusion that Hermione knew the information.

“The Hope Diamond, Ronald,” Hermione said, much more patiently than before. “The Muggles of France, the royal family, rather, had ownership of it, before the French Revolution, and, while they were imprisoned at the Temple, there was a five-day looting spree, and the diamond itself was not recovered, although most pieces were in the future,” she went on, in her most proper lecture voice. “Fleur likely thinks she’s a worthy candidate for ownership of the ring, since she’s French, when, if it’s all the same to you, it should really go to Ginny, or to Draco, when he proposes to Ginny,” Hermione said, flashing Ginny a smile.

Ginny smiled at Hermione and shook her head. “Although it’s lovely, Hermione, I think the dark gray color would clash with my hair. It would look far more suitable to your coloring, and I think Mum should give it to Ron to give to you.”

“Okay,” Ron said, looking more than a little uncomfortable and going red to his ears as he broke away from Harry and threw up his hands in annoyance. “Let’s move on, then, shall we?”

“I think not,” Draco replied, and pulled Ginny closer to him. “Ginny and I have discussed marriage at length, of course, given that there’s a war on.”

“Now, we’re not engaged,” Ginny said, as Ron, Fred, and George immediately took a step towards Draco in confrontation, “but we intend to be at some point in the future.”

“Just as long as you’re not too close,” Ron said through gritted teeth.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron! It’s none of your business!”

“Oh, really? Does Draco know that your first snog was Neville?!” Ron bellowed, and Fred, George, Harry, and Hermione all put their heads into their hands.

“Yes,” Ginny replied, her tone clipped, “and he doesn’t mind. Just like I don’t mind that his first snog was Pansy Parkinson. Neville is happy and with Luna, and Pansy is whatever she is and with Blaise. Draco and I trust one another, and we’re very happy.”

“Still...” Ron muttered, crossing his arms.

“How about you and Hermione, then?” Ginny demanded, fixing Ron with an annoyed expression as she clearly knew something Ron did not. “Have you two been honest with one another about first snogs and such?!”

Hermione turned white as milk then, and Harry swallowed, knowing that, clearly, the pair of them hadn’t been completely honest with one another. “Ginny,” came her whisper, almost as if she was subtly wishing she still had her Time-Turner, in an effort to stop this conversation before it had even begun.

Ginny flushed then, almost as if she had realized her mistake, before she turned back to Ron with an impressive glare. “Stay the hell out of my relationship!” she shouted and ran off, down the complex-looking garden path, with Draco immediately behind her.

“Um...” Fred said, his tone awkward.

“Gred, why don’t we go and see what Kreacher’s got in the kitchen for afternoon tea?” George said, equally uncomfortable.

“Sounds lovely, Forge,” Fred answered, and the twins immediately scuttled off into Grimmauld Place without looking back.

“Harry,” Ron said softly, although his gaze was fully trained upon Hermione, “please tell me that Ginny was full of it, and I’ve nothing to worry about.”

Harry immediately stepped backwards at that, a lump rising in his throat at the two pairs of brown eyes locked on one another. “Um, I don’t think I should—”

“You’re exactly right, there, Harry,” Hermione assured him, although she never took her gaze off from Ron’s face. “Don’t say a word about my past, thank you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Harry,” Ron continued, his gaze locked upon his girlfriend. “Tell me right now, as my best mate. Tell me right now that Hermione didn’t kiss that...that...”

“Harry, don’t you dare!” Hermione said; she was visibly trembling now, tears frozen upon her lashes, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “Say nothing, Harry. Nothing.”

“Then you say it, Hermione. I want you to say it,” Ron replied, his voice deathly calm, which was almost as worse as him shouting at her, as his brown eyes locked onto hers. “Tell me, Hermione. Tell me the truth. Right now.”

“Fine!” Hermione shouted, almost as if she was on her last nerve. “I snogged Viktor at the Yule Ball, Ron!”

Ron’s gaze turned thunderous. “You did?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“I was _devastated_ that night, Ron! I even told you that you’d spoiled everything, or didn’t you remember that little detail on what was supposed to be a very special evening?” she went on, in as many tears as she’d been in on the night in question. “Viktor and I, after you and Harry went upstairs—after proclaiming that I was getting scarier as I got older—went outside for a walk. He considerately transfigured my gown and heels into more appropriate clothing... It was just a top, jeans, and a sweater, along with some snow boots, in case you were wondering. He even managed to get me a hat, scarf, and gloves, he was so talented and thoughtful...” She sighed then, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook her head. “We walked outside, and the snow was so beautiful that night—like frozen crystals upon every surface, and even more expertly-cut ones falling down from the sky and through the air. He took my hand in his and told me that he had never met a girl like me before, and that he was so happy I’d agreed to come with him that night, and I told him what you’d been saying all night. He said I should never let someone treat me that way, and he was right, Ron, he was right,” the bushy-haired witch went on, her voice cracking with a sudden onslaught of emotion. “We got onto the grounds and just stared out at the frozen lake, talking, talking, talking... And then he just leaned down and kissed me, and I kissed him back, because, in that moment, there was nothing and no one other than me and Viktor—Viktor and his soft, quiet, kind, and considerate nature. He summoned two mugs of hot chocolate from the Hogwarts kitchens, and we sipped it, while sitting on a bench, which he’d placed a Warming Charm upon. And then, when curfew arrived, he walked me back to the Fat Lady’s portrait, and kissed me in the cheek goodnight. It was a lovely ending to a night you’d successfully managed to ruin for me, all due to your petty jealousy, and your unwillingness to realize that someone would have asked me, and your pigheadedness to assume that you could have asked me as a last resort.” She brushed the tears from her eyes then, and straightened up. “I think I’m going to use the Floo to get back to my parents’ house,” she said, and turned to look at Harry. “Harry, I shall see you tomorrow afternoon at the Burrow for your birthday, assuming that I am still welcome to attend the festivities that are already being planned.”

Harry nodded at her. “Of course you are, ‘Mione,” he said gently.

Hermione gave him a short nod, looking as if she wanted to approach Harry to hug him but, seeing as Ron was standing so close, decided against it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said softly, and spun on her heel, her bushy hair pluming out and around her as she headed into the house; the screen door attached to the back door was open, and so Harry and Ron could hear her as she trekked down the hallway and into the living room, and as the flames of the Floo swallowed her up shortly thereafter.

“Have I been a prat?” Ron asked after a few moments of silence.

Harry turned and regarded Ron then and sighed. “My opinion is that, yes, Ron. You’ve been a total and complete prat. However, you’ve got to decide for yourself what kind of man you’re going to be. A man with Hermione Granger upon his arm, or a man without Hermione Granger upon his arm,” he said softly, before he moved out of the backyard to join Fred and George in the kitchen with Kreacher and Dobby.

~*~

Harry was feeling slightly apprehensive the following morning on several accounts; one, Remus, according to Sirius, was still weak from the transformation the night before, and didn’t have the strength to attend Harry’s birthday celebrations at the Burrow; two, Ron hadn’t mentioned Hermione since their argument the afternoon before, and Harry was growing concerned that they would be at each other’s throats the moment they saw one another again; and three, because of the letter he had gotten from Severus that morning, via a Hogwarts owl, wishing him a happy birthday, and letting him know that he would come and see him later that evening.

Harry and Severus had discussed his upcoming birthday celebrations that were to take place at the Burrow and, naturally, Harry wanted Severus to be there. However, Severus informed Harry that, due to only Bill and Draco knowing completely about the two of them, they had to create the illusion that they still very much hated one another, and so his attendance at the party would likely be considered suspect. Severus promised to make it up to him in the letter, however, and Harry could think of several things the potions master could do to make it up to him completely.

After Harry was put into the new outfit that Draco and Sirius had gotten for him, Harry joined the two of them downstairs that afternoon, just before they were due to depart for the Burrow. It had been quiet in Grimmauld, after Hermione had stormed out the day before, with Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George returning to the Burrow shortly thereafter. He had heard Sirius speaking to Molly that morning, informing him that, despite tensions running high, the birthday celebrations were still on. Harry had made up a list for Molly, in the wake of Sirius gaining custody of him just before term ended, of people he wanted at the party—this included, other than the Weasleys, Hermione, Draco, Sirius, Tonks, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Susan Bones, Lavender Brown, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, who had all consented to attending the celebrations. Even Viktor Krum had been sent an invitation, and Harry was slightly apprehensive that the Bulgarian Quidditch player had accepted, given the information that Hermione had bestowed upon both him and Ron the day before, and Harry mentally crossed his fingers that more arguments could be avoided. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were invited as well, and they were, apparently, very much looking forward to visiting the Burrow for the first time.

Harry Floo’d over to the Burrow with Sirius and Draco just behind him, and immediately stumbled into the living room of the Weasley home. Sirius promptly casted a series of Cleaning Charms upon both teenagers as Harry was then yanked into Molly’s embrace, and kissed on the cheek. She told him that she was just putting the finishing touches on the luncheon, and to go outside where the other guests had gathered for conversation and the like. Harry smiled at Molly and nodded, watching as she greeted both Sirius and Draco, before he headed outside into the bright Devon sunshine, and had to shield his eyes for a moment.

“Harry!”

Looking up, Harry’s eyes widened considerably as many of the guests ran towards him, with Hermione at the front. Harry immediately opened his arms for her to fly into, watching as Ginny and Draco pretty much launched themselves at one another as well. Harry looked around, and saw that Ron was hanging back, and so he whispered, “How are things going?” to Hermione, and found that he was nervous about her answer.

“They’re going,” she whispered back. “He’s apologized for being a prat, naturally, and we’re still together, of course, but it’s going to take some time...”

“Of course,” Harry told her. “I’m always here, you know.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione assured him, squeezing him one last time before letting him go. “But today is all about you,” she said with a grin. “Come on. So many people want to say hello, and they shouldn’t be kept waiting.”

Harry was then hugged by Ron, Luna, Lavender, Susan Bones, Hagrid, Tonks, Fleur, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. He was clapped on the back by Fred and George, Neville, Dean and Seamus, Bill, and Draco. And then, his hand was shaken by Arthur, Oliver Wood, Viktor Krum, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody (whom he hadn’t invited directly, but was nevertheless glad to see two additional members of the Advance Guard who had taken him away from Privet Drive for the last time), Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore, who was he equally surprised but glad to see, although it just made him miss Severus all the more. Nevertheless, he kept a smile firmly glued to his face as he was systematically passed around from one guest to the other, until he was ushered to the table beneath a lovely tent set up on the grounds, where he was ultimately placed in the spot for the guest of honor, with Ron and Hermione seated on either side of him and thus, opposite one another.

Harry looked up as Molly came out of the kitchen, various luncheon dishes levitated around her, and holding onto a massive platter which housed a rather large cake with delicious-looking chocolate frosting. Harry smiled at the display, and couldn’t help but gasp when several intricately-wrapped gifts came floating out the door behind her. He watched as Arthur conjured a cherry wood table in the back corner of the tent, about a yard away from Harry, where Molly banished the gifts. She then scattered the food dishes around the table—they included platters of various sandwiches, a roast chicken, a roast turkey, a large-sized brisket, spaghetti and meatballs, boiled and mashed and roasted potatoes, roasted asparagus, roasted carrots, a delectable-looking green salad with a variety of dressings to choose from, stuffed mushrooms, an incredible-looking cheese soufflé, scotch eggs, Yorkshire pudding, fresh bread, French onion soup, a vegetable stew, and condiments of all kinds.

Harry was promptly given a plate and many of the dishes were handed over to him, and he managed to take some of everything, coming to the conclusion that Molly had charmed the plates with an Extension Charm. It amused Harry greatly as he tucked into his lunch, and found that he enjoyed everything he ate, save for the raspberry vinaigrette he sampled for his salad, as he found it far too vinegary for his taste. He complimented Molly on the dishes, however, and saw that his surrogate mother was beaming at the things he said. He was also quick to notice the French pastries that Fleur had made—rose des sables, éclairs, macaroons, and Madeleine cakes—all of which he devoured with gusto, complimenting Fleur as he went, to which Fleur visibly pinked at the praise.

Harry hadn’t remembered a more pleasant day he’d had, and it was certainly one of the better birthdays he’d had as well. The gifts were just as exciting—books from Hermione, Quidditch supplies from Ron, joke products from Fred and George, a special comb for Hedwig from Hagrid, Transfiguration textbooks from Professor McGonagall for the following term, a good supply of lemon drops from Dumbledore, and many others that he couldn’t bother to rightly remember, although he thanked each guest in turn. Molly then magically sliced up the cake and gave Harry a large slice; he blew out the candle and made a wish—a wish for Severus—and dug into the cake in the next moment. He was feeling quite tired from the ordeal, and Sirius and Draco decided it was high time for them to be getting back to Grimmauld.

After several more rounds of hugs and farewells, Harry went over to the Floo and carefully called out for Grimmauld Place. Once he, Draco, and Sirius were back in the living room, he was given a Cleaning Spell and told he could go up to bed. Harry painstakingly took all of his gifts upstairs, setting them upon his dresser, knowing he would look them over more the following day, and sighed, popping the muscles in his back. He went over to the en suite bathroom and took a shower, allowing the water droplets to cascade over his muscled form, which took the tension out of his muscles.

As soon as Harry had finished, he wrapped a towel around his middle and returned to his bedroom, stopping immediately upon the threshold of the bathroom, mouth agape as he saw Severus standing there, waiting for him. Harry let out a small shout of excitement then and charged forward towards the man, his lover, who opened his arms for him as the teenager launched into them without a moment’s hesitation. Harry’s lips found Severus’s as he wrapped his legs around the man’s middle and rutted into him, their tongues tasting one another’s from within their lips.

“I take it that I have been missed,” Severus observed, lifting his neck ever so slightly so as Harry could continually pepper kisses along his jaw.

“You’ve no idea,” Harry whispered between kisses, before nuzzling into Severus’s neck. “I only wanted you to be there at the party, and...” He deliberately lowered his voice. “...I found that it was growing quite difficult to just sit there and not think of you constantly, given that Molly and Arthur placed the tent and table so very close to the orchard.” He raised his eyes then, and stared at Severus from beneath his lashes. “I found myself more than once growing hard at the memory of you stroking me to orgasm for the first time.”

Severus’s eyes darkened with a heady amount of desire then, and promptly took Harry by the arms and slammed him up against the wall closest to them. “What are you doing to me, Harry?”

Harry blinked. “What?” he whispered.

“You have awakened things in me which I initially believed were long since passed,” came the hoarse reply. “I am amazed that I even have such predilections anymore...”

Harry gave the man a small smile. “Well, perhaps I was unaware that I even had such urges in the first place, let alone the ability to evoke such things from others...”

Severus sneered. “There was your encounter with Charles Weasley...”

“An encounter which I hardly asked for, let alone wanted,” Harry responded quickly. “I had a brief attraction to him, I admit that, and a genuine one for Cedric, although the latter was so hopelessly heterosexual that I would have never had an opportunity to let him know my feelings without royally embarrassing myself.”

Severus gave a shallow nod. “Yes, I see.”

Harry arched himself up against Severus then, and wound his arms carefully around the man’s neck. “Why can you not see it that it is you that I want?” he whispered.

Severus lowered his eyes. “I am old, Harry, and I am ugly, not to mention that I must appear on paper as a servant to the Dark Lord, and how the world perceives our relationship, given the way I’ve been treating you in a public setting since you arrived at Hogwarts...”

“First of all, you are not old, Severus—you are the same age as Remus and Sirius, as well as the age my parents would be, so no, not old at all,” Harry replied firmly, running his hands down the man’s shoulders. “And you are not ugly, I find you to be incredibly sexy, if I am being honest with you,” he continued. “As for your relationship with Riddle, I know that you are a spy for the Light, and are just as much Dumbledore’s man as I am, if not more.”

“And the way I must treat you in public?” Severus asked.

“You are merely playing a part,” Harry said softly. “Even though I’m not looking forward to the points you’re obligated to take—or what you’ve got to say to me to convince your Slytherins, save for Draco, how committed you are to the Dark—I know now that you don’t mean it, any of it, not in truth. You care about me, as I care about you, and I won’t permit anyone to potentially drive a wedge between the two of us.”

Severus blinked. “Harry?”

“I don’t know if it’s love,” Harry said softly, hating himself for being honest. “But it’s the closest I’ve ever come to it.” He sighed, shoulders slacking slightly. “I’ve had my entire life mapped out for me, ever since Riddle killed my parents, and marked me that night, when I was fifteen-months-old. I’m tired of falling in line and just obeying them, all because they say it’s what I should do, or how I should feel, or how I should act. No. I want to do something for myself, for once in my life, and I want to spend as long a time with you as we’ve got.”

Severus stroked Harry’s back. “I don’t know if it’s love either,” he admitted. “However, you have truly awakened something within me, my Harry. I don’t know what tomorrow, or next week, next month, or even next year will bring. However, I do know that war is just on the horizon, and we must take great care in whatever this is between the two of us. It must be kept a great secret, and I know you understand the reasons why. However, I believe that we are in accord with staying together, which is something I deeply wish to do as well.”

“I meant what I said, you know,” Harry said softly, “about the two of us going to France. You’ve never been, not for pleasure, and I’ve not been at all. Once this is over, we should go... Sirius took me to Gringotts during our shopping spree at Diagon, and it appears that I’ve got some houses. Other than the cottage at Godric’s Hollow, which I can’t imagine ever living in, due to what happened there, I also have a blackhouse in Scotland, a château in France, a villa in Italy, a farm in Germany, and a property in Bulgaria with a castle,” he said, and rolled his eyes at the extravagance of the Potter family in centuries past. “I propose, once I am of age and this damned war is over, you accompany me to Gringotts, and we decide where to live together.”

Severus’s eyes widened at that. “Harry, you cannot allow me to...”

“I can, Severus, and I will,” Harry said firmly. “I plan on remaining with you for as long as you shall have me, and we’ll have to live somewhere during our lives together.”

Severus leaned down then, bracing his forehead against Harry’s, his eyes never leaving his. “I was under the impression that I would be the one proposing.”

Harry felt himself heating all over at the notion that Severus was even remotely interested in marrying someone like him, but knew they both had to be diplomatic about this. “You still can, you know,” he whispered, wondering how he was able to speak at all. “Whenever you want, Severus. There’s no rush.”

Severus pulled back then, which allowed him to stare down into Harry’s intoxicating green eyes as he smiled slowly down at him. “I adore you,” he proclaimed.

Harry flushed once again. “As do I, my Severus. As do I.”

Severus made sweet, sweet love to Harry up against the very wall they stood against, and Harry found that he liked the position very much, given that Severus seemed to know just the right angle in which to snap his hips, ensuring that he collided with Harry’s prostate over and over again. As the potions master blanketed Harry’s insides with his release, he stared at the spent teenager, and knew in that very moment that he could never let Harry go. As Harry turned his face upwards to kiss Severus again, he too knew that he couldn’t ever give his Severus up.

Severus let Harry down as the interlude ended, casting a Cleaning Charm upon the two of them, and waited for Harry to pull on a pair of boxers and a nightshirt to sleep in. Harry then took his lover by the hand and led him out of his bedroom, intent upon seeing the potions master to the Floo. However, in the hallway outside of the living room, things came to a momentary standstill, as Sirius was just coming out of the kitchen.

“Snape?” Sirius asked, cocking his head to one side. “What are you...?” He took the opportunity to look them both up and down, and saw Harry standing there, holding the man’s hand, wearing nothing but boxers and a nightshirt. His lips were bruised, there were a series of love bites upon his neck, and his face was flushed, and Sirius almost immediately came to the conclusion—the correct one, mind you—of what had happened. “How could you, Snivellus?!” Sirius shouted, knocking Severus backwards so that he collided with the wall behind them, his hand ripped from Harry’s.

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, yanking his godfather backwards and moving to stand in between the two of them, as Severus cradled his head, and Sirius glared menacingly down at the two of them, yet Harry stood his ground. “Leave him alone!”

“Harry, I know that Snape must have told you that...”

“He hasn’t said or done anything that I haven’t wanted!” Harry yelled.

Sirius shook his head then, drawing his wand and shouting, “ _Finite Incantatem_!” at Harry, a red light blasting forth from the tip of his wand, and Harry stood there, still glaring at the man. “You are not under a spell?” he whispered.

“No, of course I’m not under a bloody spell!” Harry said, turning around then and helping Severus painstakingly to his feet. “Severus would never do that to me.”

Sirius’s eyes flashed at the closeness that Harry and Severus clearly exhibited. “I won’t stand for this,” he growled then, and stomped out of the room.

Harry attempted to guide Severus into the living room, so as the man could utilize the Floo Network and return to Hogwarts, but the orange flames suddenly roared and turned green, and out of the Floo came Dumbledore, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and “Mad-Eye” Moody. Harry immediately stood in front of Severus at the dark looks he received from the Hogwarts headmaster and three Aurors, and Sirius came into the room immediately thereafter, his dark blue eyes filled with rage.

“Thank you for responding to my emergency Patronus so quickly,” he said, addressing those who had just exited the Floo. “This man,” he went on, jabbing a shaking finger in Severus’s direction, “has defiled my godson, and my godson is under the impression that such an act was a consensual one.”

“It was, it was!” Harry shouted, not knowing what else to do or say. “Sirius is just saying all this because he doesn’t like Severus! Please, don’t listen to his prejudices, any of you!” he cried out, knowing that he was losing the battle, based on their expressions, but he wouldn’t allow himself to give up on Severus. “Severus is the bravest man I’ve ever known, and I won’t allow you to drag his name through the mud, I won’t!”

“Sirius, perhaps this would be better for all involved if you took Harry upstairs to his bedroom,” Dumbledore said, his eyes flat, and without emotion.

“Certainly,” Sirius replied, and systematically yanked Harry backwards and away from Severus, and proceeded to drag him out of the room.

“No, no!” Harry shouted, struggling to get away.

“Since your misdeeds cannot go unpunished, Severus, I hereby strip you of your position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore said, his tone grave. “Aurors, I believe he is your problem now,” he went on, and slipped back into the flames without a backward glance at the man.

“Albus?” Severus whispered.

“Severus...” Harry sobbed, gripping onto the doorframe of the living room. He struggled in vain to get out of Sirius’s hold, but there was nothing he could do.

“In accordance with Wizarding Law,” Moody said gravely, standing up as straight as he possibly could, “the coming of age of any witch or wizard is seventeen. As Harry James Potter is only sixteen, and I can only imagine that this torrid affair began far before his birthday—given his rapid defense of you—you have thusly violated that law.”

“As such,” Kingsley continued, and Harry could plainly see that the man was not enjoying this matter at all, “as you have been stripped of your teaching position and other jobs at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, justice must be carried out.”

“You will surrender your wand,” Tonks said, obviously struggling to hold it together, “and be remanded into our custody, where we will transport you directly to Azkaban, where you will await your trial before the Wizengamot, for committing lewd acts upon a minor, statutory rape, and coercion,” she finished.

“No, he didn’t do any of that!” Harry shouted, as Moody snapped his fingers, and took Severus’s wand away from him. “He didn’t do what you claim he did!”

“Quiet your godson, Black,” Moody said, glaring at Harry with his one good eye.

Kingsley snapped his fingers next, and all the potions that Severus regularly kept concealed in his robes flew out then, whereupon he shrank them and put them into his own pockets. “There, that is done, then.”

Tonks snapped her fingers next, although it appeared to sicken her to do so, and a pair of magical handcuffs bound Severus’s hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve got you subdued, we will Apparate directly to the wizarding prison,” she said softly.

“No, no!” came the screams, which tore from Harry’s throat. “You can’t arrest him, you can’t! I won’t let you!”

“Harry, let the Aurors do their job,” Sirius commanded from behind him, his voice rough with anger. “I will not stand for this childish behavior any longer.”

“Shut up, Sirius, shut _up_!” Harry yelled, turning around then smacking Sirius across the face, which stunned the man just enough for Harry to run forward, and clasp at Severus’s hands, and stared deeply into his onyx eyes. “Don’t forget,” he whispered, trying to keep a handle on his feelings and failing miserably. “Promise me you won’t forget...”

Severus gave a tight nod. “Never,” he whispered back.

Harry was then grabbed roughly from behind by Sirius then, and he shouted in pain—both physical and emotional—as he watched Severus being dragged outside to Apparate, and as he himself was manhandled and pulled up the staircase, where he was then locked in his bedroom, a place where Sirius had sworn he would never be locked. Harry let out scream after scream then, destroying his bedroom with accidental magic, his throat raw by the time it was all over, whereupon he collapsed in a heap upon the floor. He couldn’t even bother to get up and lie in the bed as he trembled, tears blinding his vision, as blackness immediately proceeded to take over.

~*~

It had been a little over a week since the Aurors had come for Severus, and Harry had spent most of his time in his bedroom. After that first night, Sirius had unlocked his door and attempted to speak to him, but Harry had refused to even look at the man. Draco had tried next, and while Harry still wasn’t in the mood to talk, he did listen to Draco’s words, and would look at him, his expression a haunted one. Ron and Hermione came from the Burrow and the Granger residence respectively—and Harry noticed they had seemed to have made up—and although his two best friends tried to console him, nothing worked. Ginny tried next, along with the twins, but their calm demeanor, nor their joking attitude, seemed to help matters. When Sirius contacted Molly as a last resort, the only thing the Weasley matriarch seemed to remedy was the fact that Harry had not been eating, which she fixed quickly. Other than that, Harry was not receptive to anyone, and so, they finally decided to leave him alone.

It was when Dumbledore arrived that Harry finally showed a spark of emotion, and glared at the man who had stood before him, the man who had stripped away Severus’s protection, the man who had decided to withhold complete happiness from Harry. Harry continued to glare at him for several moments, before he turned his back on the man. He immediately reached out and began to stroke at Hedwig, who had been his constant companion since Severus had been taken from him, and she was entirely patient with him after the ordeal. In fact, she would screech whenever someone came too close to her master, and Harry constantly had to hide his smiles from the protective nature of his familiar.

“Harry, my boy, acting in such a way is completely counterproductive,” the headmaster informed him, and Harry felt his hackles rising, for the man seemed to harbor no remorse for what he had done to Severus. “Anyhow, I’ve come here to Grimmauld to take you somewhere.”

“And what makes you think,” Harry began, his voice slightly scratchy and rough from lack of use, “that I would consent to go anywhere with you?”

“I don’t believe I gave you a choice in the matter,” Dumbledore replied smartly, before he advanced upon Harry, and took him by the arm, effortlessly lifting him up from his seat at his desk, and Hedwig let out a call of warning. “Come, Harry. Let us not waste any more time, shall we?”

Harry grimaced, turning away and refusing to look at the man. “You’ve manipulated my entire life thus far,” he said quietly. “What is one more matter?”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore replied.

There was a crack then, and Harry came to the direct conclusion that Dumbledore had Side-Along Apparated him, but didn’t question it further. He felt like he might be sick, but somehow managed not to be ill in... Well, wherever it was they were. Upon closer inspection, he noted that it was a classy-looking area, far nicer than that of Privet Drive, but allowed himself to look around the area, in an effort to avoid speaking to Dumbledore further. He turned his head as the man began walking towards one of the houses, so Harry came to the conclusion that he had a destination in mind, and followed him.

“Wands out, Harry,” came Dumbledore’s voice, more subdued than it had been, back in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, as they stepped through the front gate and onto the path, which led to the front door.

Harry watched, wand out this time, as Dumbledore climbed the stars from the path and onto the porch, and pushed at the front door, which gave way almost immediately. He noted that there were specs of red upon the floor, and took it to mean that there had been an attack there recently, due to the obvious presence of blood. And then, the notion that a finely-upholstered chair in the parlor seemed to have a pair of house slippers growing out from beneath it was a dead giveaway, Harry assumed, and as Dumbledore stepped forward, he poked the piece of furniture—or whatever it was—and it sprang apart.

“Merlin’s beard!” came the shout of the rather portly man from within, his silvery eyes taking in the scene before him as he straightened himself up. “Albus, really? Can a man not come up with more creative ways in which to sleep?” he asked, putting himself to rights, as he straightened out the pale purple silk of his dressing gown and pajamas.

“Ah, Horace, perhaps you had better explain yourself,” Dumbledore said gently.

“A Muggle residence,” the man replied, shrugging his shoulders. “They’re vacationing in the Canary Islands, and I myself saw it as a divine opportunity to...”

“To hide out?” Dumbledore guessed, and Harry looked back and forth between them, wondering what this man could possibly need to hide from.

“All right, all right,” came the snarky reply as he leaned back against the wall closest to the chair he’d successfully dismantled. “The Death Eaters have been trying to recruit me for almost a year,” he admitted, and Harry stiffened at the man’s words. “You can only say ‘no’ so many times before you come off as a rude individual...”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore replied with a nod. “Well, I’d wager a guess that these Muggles likely wouldn’t appreciate you demolishing their living room in such a way. Perhaps we can set their trinkets and furniture and such to rights for them,” he went on, and waved his wand about, whereupon the blood upon the ceiling vanished, a light popped on, and the various pieces of upended furniture proceeded to straighten themselves. “That was fun,” the man observed before turning back towards a morose Harry and the unknown man. “Harry, I would like to formally introduce you to an old college of mine—Horace Slughorn. Horace... Well,” Dumbledore went on with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “you know who this is.”

The man called Slughorn looked Harry over fondly. “Harry Potter,” he said, and nodded his head in approval, before his eyes snapped back to Dumbledore. “I take it you’ve come here to inquire again about the position, Albus, but my answer is still ‘no’.”

Dumbledore bowed his head. “Very well, Horace. I’ll go and use the loo, shall I?” he asked, before slipping out of the parlor.

Slughorn looked Harry over once again. “You’re quite like your father,” he said, as Harry stood before him awkwardly. “Except for the eyes, of course. You have...”

“My mother’s eyes, yeah,” Harry said uncomfortably.

“Lily. Lovely Lily,” Slughorn replied. “One of the brightest witches of her time, which is remarkable, considering that she was Muggleborn.”

Harry shifted inelegantly on his feet, staring at the man in shock. “One of my best friends is Muggleborn,” he replied, immediately coming to the defense of Hermione. “She’s the best in our year. I would think anyone would be lucky to teach her...”

“Oh, please don’t think I’m prejudiced, no, no, no,” Slughorn interrupted him quickly, and shook his salt and pepper head. “Your mother was one of my absolute favorites. Look! There she is now,” he said, and nodded in the direction of a buffet-like table, and Harry stepped forward, and took in the wizarding photographs there. “All mine,” Slughorn went on, coming up behind him to explain, “ex-students, I mean.” He then pointed out various photos—Harry’s mother, Gwenog Jones who was Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, and there was even one of Regulus, and Harry was slightly taken aback when Slughorn informed him that he hadn’t taught Sirius, but he decided not to dwell on it.

“Well, Horace,” came Dumbledore’s voice as he returned into the parlor, “as I cannot seem to persuade you otherwise, Harry and I must be getting along now. Harry?” the man said, and Harry promptly moved to leave with Dumbledore.

“Wait, wait,” Slughorn said as they stepped outside. “All right. I’ll return. But I will be requesting a raise, and I want Professor Merrythought’s old office! The one you put me in the last time was as tiny as a water closet!” he said with a grumble, before slamming the front door behind him.

Harry and Dumbledore said nothing to one another, and Dumbledore sent him back to Grimmauld Place without a word. He returned into his bedroom and went into the attached bathroom to have a shower. As he stood beneath the head of the thing, he found he didn’t know where the shower water began and his tears ended.

~*~

_Harry—_

_Sirius tells me that you’ve refused to leave your bedroom, other than for that secret meeting that Headmaster Dumbledore took you upon. And before you ask, the answer is no. Neither Sirius nor I know what the headmaster needed you for, although he did ask Sirius’s permission before bringing you along._

_I hear that you’ve been quiet for the most part since Snape was taken away. I am sorry that I could not have been there for you in the aftermath of his abrupt exit. Although I agree that Snape clearly did something wrong by blatantly ignoring Wizarding Law, I think the way it was handled was too dark. There should have been a compromise, however, the Wizengamot has made it abundantly clear that werewolves have no place within our government._

_With term beginning tomorrow, I am sure you’re anxious for your sixth-year to begin. I heard that Sirius allowed you and Draco to meet Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley a week ago to get your school supplies. Was it true that Flourish and Blotts only had three copies of_ Advanced Potion Making _left? You should have complained to the management, Harry, and not allowed Ron, Hermione, and Draco to take the last copies. Something could have been done, but I am quite sure that it will be remedied ultimately._

_I wanted you to be the first to know that Dumbledore has requested that I return to Hogwarts for the autumn term to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. You will, of course, be permitted to come by for tea with Ron and Hermione whenever you wish. Tonks will be coming along as well for various visits, and I would like the three of you to get to know her better. She is quite an impressive Auror in her own right, and I think this could be the real thing._

_I shall see you at the welcoming feast tomorrow night, Harry. Try to enjoy your final hours of the summer holidays. I know that Sirius is very remorseful for the turn of events, and all he wants is to have you back. Please, don’t take his judgement too harshly—he was merely looking out for your best interests, as was the headmaster._

_Sincerely,_

_Remus Lupin_

Harry folded up the letter and placed it back onto his desk. Hedwig had delivered to him two letters that afternoon, with the first being one from Hermione. Hermione had told him that Severus wasn’t due to return to the castle for next term, and although Harry knew that Severus had been stripped of his position, the thought still mortified him. He hadn’t heard of any recent developments in _The Daily Prophet_ either, which worried him to no end.

As he got to his feet to finalizing his packing for his return to Hogwarts the following day, he moved his Sneakoscope around in his trunk, before lifting it for a moment. when a revelation hit him suddenly then, the detector crashed to the ground, shattering everywhere. Harry recalled how, in third-year when Remus had taught Defense the first time, how it was in his contract that Severus would brew Wolfsbane for him.

Now that Severus was no longer on the staff at Hogwarts, how was Remus supposed to get the invaluable potion? He knew enough about the potion makers at St. Mungo’s from Severus that they were, at best, adequate. Severus was the best brewer the country—or the Wizarding World—had ever seen, and Harry had gone and given in to his desires instead of forcing the man to wait, once he made a play for him.

Harry felt as if he had been to blame for all that had happened over the past month. If only he and Severus had waited, or, perhaps, had been more careful, none of these tragic events could have happened. They could have been content with merely discussing their feelings and planning out their future and, instead, they were separated forcibly, and Severus was no longer given the protection of Hogwarts or Dumbledore.

Harry knelt down and began to tidy up the pieces of the Sneakoscope, wondering if Hermione could repair it for him the following day, and knew then that the pieces of glass symbolized his life perfectly.


	11. Fall Prey To

Harry arrived at Kings Cross Station with Sirius and Draco, but barely said a word to either of them and when he did speak, it was almost entirely directed at Draco. Sirius went through the barrier with the two of them, and the three of them walked through the crowds together, with Harry and Draco pushing their carriages with their trunks placed front and center. Harry’s also held Hedwig’s cage, and the snowy owl’s bright amber eyes darted back and forth as they forged through the crowded platform. Draco, meanwhile, had an addition that term as well, in a small cage placed just so upon his own trunk; it housed an Anjouan scops owl from Eeylops in Diagon Alley, whom Draco had readily called Alexander.

Sirius was quick to spot the many redheaded Weasleys, which included Molly and Arthur, plus Ron and Ginny. Hermione was standing beside Ron, holding securely onto Crookshanks, and smiling at both Arthur and Molly, and likely listening to them attentively as they bid them farewell. Ginny turned her head at Harry and Draco’s approach, and immediately let go of her trolly, which Molly had to hurry catch onto, and dashed forward, with Sirius yanking Draco’s own trolley backwards so as it wouldn’t collide with any unsuspecting patrons which currently milled around them. Draco immediately ran towards Ginny, catching her up into his arms and kissing her repeatedly for everyone on the platform to see.

“Harry,” Hermione said, squeezing Ron’s hand for a moment before crossing towards her best friend, and immediately proceeded to embrace him, somehow managing to do so despite her hold on Crookshanks. “How are you? Okay?”

“Later, in the compartment,” he whispered to her.

Hermione pulled back and nodded, her brown eyes filled with understanding as she briefly caught at one of his hands. “Of course,” she replied, before moving back and allowing Ron to greet Harry properly.

“Hey, mate,” Ron said, and stepped forward, hugging Harry briefly before pulling back and catching the look Harry gave him, and gave him a quick nod in understanding.

Harry was then hugged by Ginny and Molly, and clapped on the shoulder by Arthur, as their trunks were brought into the train, and their trolleys were banished back into the main part of the train station. Harry retained his grip upon Hedwig’s cage, while Draco held onto Alexander’s, with Ginny cooing at the beautiful dark brown owl, with white at its wing tips, and impressive yellowish eyes. Finally, the train whistle blew, and Harry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug by Sirius, who again informed him that he had had him separated from Severus for his own good, but Harry yanked himself away from the man and refused to listen.

Harry went onto the train shortly thereafter, and found his trunk—plus Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny’s trunks—all inside a compartment. They claimed it, with Harry and Draco instantly proceeding to let out Hedwig and Alexander, who proceeded to coo and preen for one another, and Ron joked that Alexander had found a girlfriend already. Ginny proclaimed the entire arrangement to be incredibly romantic, while Draco and Hermione visibly rolled their eyes, and Harry slumped against his seat.

“Harry?” Hermione asked a short while later, once the train had left the station. “Can you talk to us now?”

Harry sighed, hunching forward in his seat before he finally nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He felt his shoulders stiffening before he began to speak properly. “As I’m sure you all know by now, thanks to Draco,” he said, nodding at his surrogate brother, who had written to Ginny on his behalf, and who had then told Ron and Hermione, “Professor Snape will not be returning to Hogwarts this term.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, mate. Of course, Fred and George say that the rumor in Diagon is that he had a relationship with a student,” he said.

Harry gently leaned backward upon his seat then, his fingers knotting themselves together. “It’s not untrue, Ron,” he said softly.

“Harry, you were the student, weren’t you?” Hermione asked tentatively. “Professor Snape was having relations with you?”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “No need to sound like a medical textbook, Hermione,” he replied, and found that he wished people could respect his choices for a partner.

Hermione sighed. “Sorry you’re right,” she replied, her brow puckering as she stroked Crookshanks, who purred softly in her lap. “But you were... Seeing one another?” she asked.

Harry nodded at her. “Yes. Severus and I were... Are in a relationship,” he said, suddenly realizing that he didn’t rightly know what their status was. According to law, and Sirius and Dumbledore, their union was illegal. However, they’d not ended things themselves, so it was rightly confusing...

“Oh, I see,” Hermione said softly. “And you’re in love?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head at her implications. “No, of course not. Why would we be in love, Hermione?”

Hermione blinked. “Well, you were... Are in a relationship...”

“So?!” Harry said, throwing up his hands, which caused both Hedwig and Alexander to visibly startle at his movements. “We’re not in love, Hermione!”

Hermione looked shocked at Harry’s demeanor. “All right, Harry, all right,” she said softly as she lifted her hands, thus permitting Crookshanks to transfer himself into Ginny’s lap, and the youngest Weasley proceeded to pet the animal. “You’re not in love.”

Harry nodded, leaning back in an effort to get comfortable in his seat. “Thank you,” he said, obviously filled with relief.

He listened off and on to the conversations had by Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny throughout the rest of the journey, only getting to his feet twice throughout. The first time to meet the trolley witch to get some cauldron cakes and a licorice wand, and then again when they arrived at Hogsmeade Station to change into his robes. A barrier magically appeared within the compartment, which permitted Harry, Ron, and Draco to change on one side, and Hermione and Ginny to do so on the other.

The five teenagers left the train then, their bags with their Muggle clothes under one arm, and Hedwig and Alexander’s cages shrunk down, to go into their dormitories and not used again until the Christmas holidays, which seemed such a long way away. The teenagers greeted Hagrid briefly as they watched Hedwig and Alexander fly off, with Hedwig just ahead, presumably to show Alexander the way to the owlery. Once they stepped into the castle, Hermione painstakingly banished their bags, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s bag going to the Gryffindor common room, and Draco’s going to his solo room in the Serpentine Corridor, which Dumbledore had installed for him over the summer, so as Draco wouldn’t have to be in Slytherin with individuals who thought him to be a traitor.

They then walked through the main corridor with second-years and above, making their way to the Great Hall. Draco had been given special permission last term by Dumbledore to sit at the Gryffindor table, and Draco and Ginny always took their meals together because of it. When they went inside and sat down, Harry stared at the wood grain of the table, not wanting to look up at the head table, for he knew that he would see everyone there but the man he had come to care about more than life itself.

The first-years arrived with Professor McGonagall around twenty minutes later, and they all scuttled towards the Sorting Hat. The hat itself sang a song about how to keep together in these desperate times, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco looked at each other, wondering how the hat could get away with blatantly saying such things. Dumbledore asked the students to welcome Professor Lupin back as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher shortly thereafter, and Professor Slughorn as potions master and Head of Slytherin House. A lump formed in Harry’s throat at the second title that Slughorn would have, and found that he was white-knuckling the edge of the Gryffindor table, and wouldn’t have stopped unless Hermione had jabbed him in the ribs, which she was quick to do.

Harry straightened up once dinner was presented upon each table, but he only picked at the roast chicken, potatoes, and roast veg that Hermione had placed upon his plate. He got impatient looks from Hermione and Ginny, as well as looks of concern from Ron, Draco, and even Neville, who had been given the information about his connection with Severus through Luna, who had gotten it from Ginny. Luna had embraced him as they’d shared a carriage earlier, telling him to be brave and to not suffer fools gladly. Harry sighed, forcing his mind back to the present and to eat some of his dinner, although he found that the foods’ taste resembled that of smokey ash, which did not sit well in his stomach.

Once dinner and pudding had come to an end, Dumbledore officially welcomed them back for that term, before telling them to head off to bed, “pip-pip”. Harry tried to ignore the casualty of it all from the headmaster, as the man was still on his hit list, so to speak, and ignored the rage that threatened to burst forth from him full-throttle. Draco walked back with them towards the Gryffindor common room, clapping Harry and Ron on their backs, giving a brief hug to Hermione, and a goodnight snog to Ginny before heading to his new rooms. Harry wondered how long it would be before Ginny was joining him there.

As they entered the common room, there was a flurry of footsteps from behind them and, upon turning, the four of them saw Professor McGonagall. “Potter,” she said, clearly out of breath and exhausted, “stay a moment, please. I’d like a word.”

“We’ll be waiting inside, mate,” Ron said, putting his arms around both Hermione and Ginny’s shoulders in a casual manner and pulling them both inside.

Professor McGonagall waited until the fat lady’s portrait closed before she regarded Harry and smiled at him. “I wanted to inform you quickly that you’ve been proclaimed as Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain,” she said proudly.

Harry felt a lump rising in his throat then; ever since Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch last term, he hadn’t felt as passionate about the game, and knew that it wouldn’t be fair for him to literally be the elected student in charge if that passion was gone. “Thank you, professor,” he said softly, “but I’m afraid I must decline the position.”

Professor McGonagall looked shocked. “What do you mean, Potter?”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, professor. But I decided over the summer that I wouldn’t play in a competitive sense anymore. I’m perfectly happy to play for fun, but I don’t want to even be on the team anymore, if it’s all the same to you.” He hesitated. “Ron, however, I think, would make an excellent captain. His form improved drastically over the summer, and his flying time is most excellent. I think Gryffindor would be lucky to have him as their captain.”

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “I’d not considered this,” she said, obviously thinking it over. “Potter, would you mind sending Mr. Weasley out here, please?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Goodnight, professor.”

“Goodnight, Potter. And Potter,” she said, catching Harry before he was let into the common room. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry... But what for, professor?”

“For turning a potentially negative situation into one of remarkable positivity, and for sticking up for your friend’s improvements in Quidditch,” replied Professor McGonagall with a smile. “Now, if you could please fetch Mr. Weasley...”

“Yes, of course. Goodnight, professor,” he said as the portrait swung outwards, thus letting him into the common room. “Ron?” he asked, and his friend looked up. “Professor McGonagall wants to see you outside.”

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione scolded. “One day back at Hogwarts and already our Head of House wants to see you...”

“I haven’t done anything!” Ron shouted, glowering temporarily at Hermione before walking past Harry and out into the corridor.

“Harry? Are you all right?” Ginny asked tentatively.

Harry gave her a smile, although it felt like his face would shatter at any moment. “Just tired,” he told her. “Think I’ll have an early night.”

“All right, Harry,” Hermione said, although her tone was reluctant. “See you at breakfast tomorrow morning, then. And remember, we’ve charms first.”

Harry nodded. “I remember,” he told her, before he walked up the spiral staircase and upstairs to the sixth-year boys’ dorm. He made his way to his bed, which was identified by his trunk at the foot, and stripped off his robes and into his pajamas and climbed in. Pulling his curtains around the bed and putting up a Silencing Charm, he turned his face into the pillow as he spelled the light off and wept.

~*~

“Get your books out.”

Harry straightened up automatically in his chair, from the desk he was sharing with Draco, as a feeling of dread systematically went down his spine. Had this been Severus’s class, even if they were sharing a bed, he knew that the man wouldn’t have hesitated in pointing out his incompetence. His hand shot up into the air without a second thought, however, because he knew that Professor Slughorn was vastly different from Severus.

“Ah, Harry my boy,” Slughorn said, looking him over. “Everything all right?”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said quickly. “Flourish and Blotts only had three copies of _Advanced Potion Making_ left, and I was the last one there, so...”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Slughorn replied, practically radiating with understanding. “Take what you need from the storage cupboard, my boy.”

Harry promptly got to his feet, having a sinking feeling that Slughorn would be spending the beginning of class lecturing, and knew that he could copy off of Hermione or Draco’s notes if he missed anything vital. Crossing the room, he opened the storage cupboard and looked inside, and saw that there was only one copy of the textbook available. It appeared to be weathered and rather tragic-looking, as well as an older edition than the current. However, he knew from Hermione that many textbooks didn’t change much edition to edition, so he crossed his fingers that this potions book was one of them. Taking it back to his desk and returning to his seat beside Draco, he took a quill, parchment, and ink from inside his bag and began writing down notes for the topics Slughorn was discussing, which were Felix Felicis and Amortentia.

“Come forward, then,” Slughorn said, motioning for the students to get to their feet. “Come and smell this,” he said, indicating the Amortentia. “And what do you smell, Miss Granger?” he asked, turning to Hermione.

Hermione colored as the potion wafted into her nose. “I smell spearmint toothpaste and freshly-mown grass,” she said quietly.

“Very good,” Slughorn said, and looked at Draco. “How about you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco stepped forward and inhaled the potion. “Something flowery,” he observed, his blond brows going together at that, “and broom polish.”

“Interesting, interesting,” Slughorn replied with a nod, before his gaze moved to Ron. “Go ahead, Wallenby,” he said, and Ron looked annoyed that the man didn’t get his name right, but nevertheless moved forward.

Ron stepped towards the potion and stuck his nose as close as he could get, before he smiled to himself and moved back. “Old books,” he replied, and Hermione flushed.

“And how about you, Mr. Potter?” Slughorn asked, turning rather eagerly to Harry. “Would you care to smell the potion?”

Harry sighed, but nevertheless nodded his head and moved towards the massive cauldron which housed the potion with a mother-of-pearl sheen. “Parchment,” he said quietly, “strawberries, and oregano,” he concluded, and gritted his teeth, distinctly recalling that Severus had smelled like the latter scent, that day in the Forbidden Forest when they gathered potions together.

“Ah, quite an interesting combination indeed, Mr. Potter,” Slughorn said, nodding with approval as Harry stepped back into his cluster of friends. “Well now, today for our first potions lesson, we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death,” he went on, looking over them all. “Go forth and collect your ingredients and get to work!” he said encouragingly.

Harry trooped over towards the tables, which Slughorn had promptly transfigured into work stations, and found he was to be sharing a table with Ron, Hermione, and Draco. Their cauldrons were already set up, and Harry opened up his textbook to get a good look at the ingredients needed for the potion. Much to his surprise, someone had inked in something upon the page between the title one and the table of contents, the words proclaiming, _This is the property of the Half-Blood Prince_ , staring back at him.

As perplexing as this was, it was even more so when he turned to the indicated page which had the recipe for the potion, which informed whoever was reading it to add thirteen as opposed to twelve Sopophorous beans, and to crush them with a silver dagger so as you could add the juices correctly to the concoction. There was also a note for the final bit of instructions; the original text told the potioneer to stir the potion seven times anti-clockwise; however, the updated instructions, still scrawled in the margins of the textbook, told the maker to add an additional stir of clockwise to the end of your brew.

Thinking that, perhaps, the individual who had owned the book previously was correct, Harry gathered up the Sopophorous beans with an additional one, and took out his silver dagger from his potions kit. As he worked—adding the infusion of wormwood and the powdered root of asphodel, and continued on in that wave, stirring clockwise when the time came. He next added the sloth brain, which oozed mucus and was not altogether pleasant to look at, before he began preparing the Sopophorous beans by crushing them with his dagger, thus adding the juice almost effortlessly to his potion.

“How did you do that?” Hermione whispered to him.

Harry looked up, surprised that Hermione would be asking him advice on anything academic related. “What?” he asked.

“The Sopophorous bean juice,” she replied, nodding at him.

“Oh,” he replied, shaking his head at his momentary lapse. “Crush it. Don’t cut it,” he told her with a quick smile.

“ _No_ ,” Hermione replied, her voice firm; she stood at the edge of the table, her hair a mess, and gripping her own copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ in her hands, before she jabbed at her own instructions with her finger. “The instructions specifically say to cut.”

“No, really,” Harry told her.

Hermione looked from her textbook to her potion, and Harry turned back to his own work, so he didn’t know what her ultimate decision was.

Once the Sopophorous bean juice had been added, Harry took the prince’s advice and added an additional stir of clockwise at the end of the potion, and waited for class to be over. He stood beside his cauldron and waited, and when Slughorn came and checked it over, he noticed the man dropping an autumn leaf into his cauldron. The man then twittered with delight as the leaf singed before sinking to the depths of the cauldron, and clapped his hands.

“I dare say that one drop would surely kill us all!” he proclaimed. “Outstanding, Mr. Potter, outstanding! Just like your mother,” he said.

Harry tried his best to smile, and when the man went to check on Draco’s potion, he turned his attention back to his new textbook, wondering who the Half-Blood Prince was, and why he had taken advice from a perfect stranger in the first place.

~*~

It was the second Saturday of term when Harry got an owl from Remus during breakfast, asking him to come to tea in his office. Harry, after breakfast, spent his morning drafting his first essay for charms, and then took a long walk on the Hogwarts grounds, before he visited with Hedwig and Alexander in the owlery. The two birds seemed to be getting along quite well, and Harry wasn’t a bit surprised when he saw an egg in Hedwig’s nest, and smiled to himself, resolving to inform Draco about it, so as they wouldn’t use both their owls at the same time, and so one of them could be on hand to care for it.

Harry trudged towards Remus’s rooms at the appointed hour, remembering how Quirrell had discussed dark wizards his first-year, Lockhart had given them exams on himself second-year, Remus had given them lessons on Boggarts his third-year, Moody the Unforgivable Curses in fourth-year, and Umbridge’s tragic excuse for a textbook fifth-year. Shaking his head, he went up the staircase at the back of the classroom towards Remus’s private office, which was connected to his private rooms, and knocked on the door. He opened it once Remus allowed him to come inside, and walked through to the man’s private rooms.

“Ah, Harry,” Remus said, his tone warm as he approached, embracing Harry before he gestured for him to sit down. “Your friend Dobby was most excited that you were going to be my guest today.”

“Yes, I told him that he could return to the kitchens if he wanted to during term, and he seemed pleased to be able to serve me during the school year. I’m glad you asked him to prepare for today,” he went on, looking at the pot of tea, two cups, and a platter of sandwiches and biscuits. “I’m sure it meant a lot to him.”

“I’m amazed that an elf of his nature ever served the Malfoy family at all,” Remus remarked as he poured the tea for each of them. “He has such a sunny disposition.”

“The best of us do,” Harry replied, taking the cup of tea when it was offered, and nodding his thanks to Remus.

Remus sighed, sitting back in his chair with his own cup of tea and sipped it. “Harry, be honest with me, please. How are you holding up?”

Harry took another sip of his tea before he lowered it, plus its saucer, onto the table between the two of them. “Since when?” he asked bitterly. “Since my parents were murdered and I was marked for death? Since I was beaten and abused by my relatives who I would have hoped would have loved and protected me? When I was nearly killed by Riddle during first-year, or thought to be the heir of Slytherin during second-year? Not to mention having my godfather ripped away from me third-year, or signed up for a tournament I wanted no part in fourth-year, and don’t get me started on all Umbridge did to me fifth-year...”

Remus swallowed then, lowering his eyes. “I see that I must be specific in this matter, then,” he replied, nodding his head. “I was referring to this summer, when your relationship with Severus was found out.”

“You mean torn out by Sirius, who promptly called Dumbledore and three Aurors—one of whom is your girlfriend, I might add, and two others who I trusted beyond measure, as they are all order members. They took him away from me, Remus,” Harry said, his voice breaking as he covered his face with his hands. “I... I don’t blame Tonks, of course I don’t. She was only following orders from her superiors, and she’s visited me since then, letting me know that she didn’t want to do it, and that she didn’t see a problem with me and Severus...”

“She was only doing her job, Harry,” Remus told him gently. “She told me later how much she didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to bring the two of you ruin and, if she could have gotten away with it, she would have _Obliviated_ everyone right then...”

Harry sighed, removing his hands from his face, but not bothering to scrub the tears out from his eyes. “Dumbledore’s the most powerful sorcerer in the world for a reason,” he muttered. “He would have seen her actions coming, earning her a cell right beside Severus’s in Azkaban,” he told the man bitterly.

Remus looked around then, before he spelled the door to his chambers closed and locked, and put up a lengthy and complicated Silencing Spell. “It’s a spell I learned so that people couldn’t hear me screaming during my transformation,” he explained.

Harry blinked, nodding his head. “I see,” he replied.

Remus looked torn for a moment before he spoke again. “I will always trust Dumbledore, in that I am on the side of the Light,” he began, and Harry nodded reluctantly. “However, I am of the same feelings of Tonks in this matter.”

Harry straightened up then. “The same feelings?” he whispered.

Remus nodded at him. “Yes, the very same, and not just because she’s my girlfriend and I’m in love with her. But because of what is right in the world. I’m afraid that there will always be a stigma, although less so in the Wizarding World, for couples who have a drastic age difference, as well as ones who are of the same sex.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “Yes. The Dursleys hated queers,” he whispered.

“They hated a lot of things, it seems,” Remus said darkly. “Nevertheless, some people act in the way they do because generations have preconditioned themselves to think a certain way. As such, if you are from a particular generation, no matter what you may feel in your heart, you could potentially hate yourself as a direct result.”

Slowly, Harry looked up at Remus. “What are you saying?”

“It is not well-known outside the order, or the Dumbledore family, but Dumbledore is just as gay as you and Severus are, Harry,” Remus said softly.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “He’s gay?!” he demanded, launching to his feet.

Remus nodded. “Yes.”

“And he hates himself for it, I assume?” Harry asked, his teeth gritting, as he proceeded to pace Remus’s rooms back and forth.

Remus sighed. “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that, Harry...”

“Then explain it to me,” Harry told him, whirling around to face the man. “I’m dying to know what made Dumbledore hate all of us so much that he saw fit to interfere and separate me permanently from my lover, who has now lost his protection...” He put his fist into his mouth then, so as to avoid crying out.

“All right, Harry, all right,” Remus said gently, putting up his hands. “I’ll tell you.”

Harry slowly lowered himself into the window seat. “Speak,” he whispered.

“When Dumbledore was very young, he lived with his father, Percival, and his mother, Kendra, in a village, alongside his younger brother, Aberforth, and younger sister, Ariana,” Remus began, and Harry found it amazing how many people there were out there, whose pasts you never considered until they affected you directly. “One day, Ariana was playing in the family’s garden, and practicing her magic. Neighborhood boys saw her, and demanded that she perform the intricate spell work again. As you know, most magic in such young witches and wizards, at this stage, is accidental, and, therefore, cannot be controlled. As a result, Ariana tried and failed to showcase the magic and the boys, thinking that she was withholding the impressive tricks from them, proceeded to beat her.”

Harry stiffened. “I am sorry for it,” he whispered, knowing full well what it was like to be at the mercy of older children.

“When Percival got wind of this, he systematically hunted down each boy, rather effortlessly, I might add, who had harmed his daughter and killed them without remorse,” Remus continued, and Harry nodded, not a bit surprised that someone would go to such lengths to protect their children. “When the Aurors arrived to inspect the crime scene, they figured out who was responsible, by testing various wizard’s wands in the neighborhood. When Percival refused to inform the Aurors why he had killed the Muggle boys, the Aurors arrested him and sentenced him to life in Azkaban.”

Harry lowered his eyes, thinking how unfortunate that all was.

“Kendra then took Albus, Aberforth, and Ariana—who had, unfortunately, succumbed to madness from the attack sustained by the Muggle boys—to the village of Godric’s Hollow to live,” Remus went on, and Harry’s eyes snapped upwards once again, “where they lived next door to Bathilda Bagshot, whom I’m quite sure Hermione would know quite well as the author of _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, slightly taken aback by this sudden information.

“They tried to live as anonymously as possible, and this was either better or worse since they moved to a wizarding village. Albus and Aberforth began at Hogwarts, and it was considered not advisable to admit Ariana, so nothing more was discussed there. When Albus was around sixteen, he was introduced to Bathilda’s nephew, Gellert Grindelwald, who was a student at Durmstrang Institute, and it was he who became quite close to Albus.”

Harry nodded. “I see.”

“Before Albus was due to graduate from Hogwarts, he and Grindelwald wrote letters back and forth, now thought to be love letters, proclaiming what they planned to do once they were both out of school, and how they wanted to make wizards the ultimate power. However, tragedy struck the Dumbledore family when Ariana caused a magical explosion which killed Kendra, who was thought to be her jailer. When this happened, Aberforth wished to become Ariana’s guardian but, now that Albus was graduated from Hogwarts and seen as an adult in wizarding society, refused to relinquish guardianship of Ariana to Aberforth, telling him to finish his education before anything further was decided.”

“Merlin, how awful,” Harry whispered.

Remus gave Harry a sad smile. “During the summer of 1899, when Albus and Grindelwald were nineteen and Aberforth was sixteen, things escalated to the point where Albus, Grindelwald, and Aberforth engaged in a three-way duel. The cause of it was because Albus and Grindelwald wanted to travel the world together, and Aberforth knew that such a thing would be detrimental for Ariana, due to her fragile mental state and, since Albus was her guardian, she would be required to travel with them. Aberforth demanded that guardianship be transferred to him and, when Albus refused yet again, the duel broke out between the three of them. Ariana, likely tired of all the arguing and fighting, especially on her behalf, got caught in the middle of the magical fray and was killed.”

Harry gasped. “No,” he whispered.

Remus nodded, sadness haunting his eyes. “Yes. Grindelwald turned tail and ran, and Albus and Aberforth were left alone to speak to the Aurors. At the funeral, Aberforth broke Albus’s nose and didn’t speak to him for years.”

“Oh? Are they back in contact now?” Harry asked.

“Of a sort,” Remus replied. “He owns the Hogs Head.”

Harry blinked, remembering the burly-looking barman in the establishment, which smelled like a country farm and housed a great-many goats. “He’s kind,” he replied.

Remus nodded. “Yes. A bit impatient until you get to know him, or if you’re taking too long to order a pint or some food, but a harmless man.”

Harry found that he was gripping the edges of the window seat as he thought all this new information over. “So, you think Dumbledore separated me from Severus because he secretly hates how we are?”

Remus sighed. “I cannot answer for him completely, Harry, although it is a definite possibility,” he said gently. “I do know that Sirius only reported it for your own good.”

“How can you say that?” Harry whispered. “How can you even...?” He shook his head. “He did it because he still hates Severus, and you know it.”

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “That I cannot say.” Remus continued to look Harry over then, and asked, “Do you love him?”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Severus. Do you love him?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he replied. “No, I don’t love him.”

Remus looked surprised. “If you don’t love him, then why is this hitting you so hard?” he asked with a knowing expression.

“Because Dumbledore has acted like a puppet master for as long as I can remember,” he replied with a small sigh. “Severus and I are just pawns to him, at the end of things, although I wield a sword, as I am the weapon who must defeat the Dark.”

“Harry?”

“What?”

“How are you really feeling?” Remus asked.

Harry slowly turned his gaze upon Remus then, and felt his eyes swim with tears. “I’m lost,” he admitted for the first time. “I feel like I’m lost without him,” he said, feeling himself shaking all over as the man crossed the room and pulled him into his arms, letting the teenager cry upon his shoulder as he attempted to work out his feelings on the matter.

~*~

“All right, transfiguration next,” Hermione said.

Ginny nodded; despite not being a sixth-year like the rest of them, she was fairly competent in the subject itself, and the girls would always trade notes and ideas with one another. “Excellent idea, ‘Mione,” she said, from where she sat in between her and Draco, with her head nestled upon the latter’s shoulder.

Hermione picked up her copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ by Garnet Bramble, and thumbed through the pages. “Professor McGonagall said that we should come up with our own spells this week. Any ideas, Ron?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Ron replied with a smirk. “Grapefruit to Goblin.”

Hermione put her hand to her head, while Harry and Draco smirked, and Ginny found it very difficult not to laugh aloud. “Think with your mind as opposed to your stomach, please, Ronald,” Hermione reprimanded gently, before turning to Draco. “What have you considered for your assignment, Draco?”

“I thought something like Pygmy Puff to Pixie,” he replied, sounding completely serious about it, and Ginny giggled.

Ginny, for her part, after said giggling, turning fully around and snogged Draco firmly upon the mouth. “I have the utmost confidence in you, my dragon,” she said. “You may even borrow Arnold for it, if you wish,” she said, mentioning the Pygmy Puff she had bought at Fred and George’s shop in Diagon Alley, just before term had begun.

“Thank you, my fair one,” Draco whispered back, before pulling Ginny forward and claiming her lips once again, while Ron tried not to gag at the display.

“Not half bad, Draco. Once you get the spell to work properly, I think it could be quite a good show,” Hermione put in with a nod. “And, if anything goes wrong, Professor McGonagall will be on hand to remedy everything,” she said, smiling at the couple before looking across the table at her other best friend with a tentative look. “And how about you, Harry? Have you considered anything?”

“Bludger to Basilisk,” he muttered, not really paying attention.

Hermione stiffened. “I don’t think Professor McGonagall would take too kindly to a Quidditch ball zooming off the pitch and into her classroom, or a massive snake either. Besides, one look from me and I’d end up in the hospital wing again,” she said.

Ron promptly reached out and thwacked Harry on the head, before putting an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “He didn’t mean it, ‘Mione,” he assured her.

“I happen think there’s an underlying issue here, Ron,” Hermione said gently, squeezing his leg before turning his attention back to Harry. “Harry? What is it you know?”

Harry sighed, before putting up a Silencing Charm around their table in the library, and hoping that Madam Pince wouldn’t come over to check on them. “I had tea with Remus a bit over a week ago,” he replied.

Ginny immediately turned to look at Harry. “How is he?”

“Fine,” Harry replied. “Full moon is coming up, so he’s asked me to act as go-between on his behalf for Tonks. Things at the ministry are really slammed right now,” he explained, “and so she’s taking on as many shifts as she can.”

“That’s considerate of you,” Draco put in, and Ginny immediately nuzzled closer to him, and Draco flushed, yet still spoke. “I hope that one day we can all be potentially slammed with work that we love.”

“I’ll slam you,” Ginny whispered to Draco, nipping at his earlobe.

“And I’ll slam him if you don’t keep it tucked away until _after_ I’m out of the room,” Ron growled from across the table, before turning back to Harry. “Any new news, mate?” he asked, in an effort to distract himself.

Harry bit his lower lip. “Remus seems to think that a possibility for Dumbledore being so quick to call the Aurors to separate me from Severus is... Well, self-loathing,” he replied, and Hermione sighed, lowering her eyes. “What is it, ‘Mione?” he asked.

Hermione swallowed before looking up. “Is this about Dumbledore being gay?” she asked, and Ron, Ginny, Draco, and Harry all stared at her in varying states of shock.

“You _knew_?!” Harry demanded.

“Well, I certainly suspected,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Have you ever bothered to read the footnotes of _Hogwarts: A History_?”

Harry shook his head then, sputtering as he attempted to clear it. “What the hell does that have to do with—?!”

Hermione grumbled under her breath, cutting him off, and summoned her copy from her school bag, which she always seemed to carry with her. She thumbed through the book before she came to the desired page, and slammed it down unceremoniously upon the center of the table. “Right here,” she said, jabbing her finger along the italicized text.

It was a small, inconspicuous note, that could have easily gone unnoticed.

 _As far as I’m aware, Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is the first non-heterosexual wizard to hold a significant position of power for the side of the Light, or in an academic setting_.

Harry sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Merlin,” he whispered.

Ron yanked up the text and stared at it, almost as if he thought it had been written with Disappearing Ink. When it remained on the page, however, he finally let the book drop back down onto the surface of the table. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Hermione quickly put her book back into her bag, and turned to Draco and Ginny. “Neither of you seem too surprised by this,” she said softly.

Ginny shrugged. “I always suspected, but it doesn’t make it my business,” she replied, as she nestled closer to Draco.

“As for me,” Draco said, “I was so preconditioned to hate so many groups of people, both in and out of the Wizarding World, because of Lucius, that Ginny has been responsible for my re-education since last term.”

“So far, Draco’s been getting Outstanding’s left and right,” she informed everyone, before she kissed him repeatedly.

“All right, that’s enough!” Ron shouted. “If you’re quite through, either focus on your studying or leave the library so I don’t have to see you snogging my sister!”

“Very well, then,” Draco said affably, spelling his books and things into his bag and getting to his feet, as well as offering his hand to Ginny. “Fancy a walk?” he asked.

Ginny flushed becomingly and took his hand. “Of course!” she said, and was pulled to her feet, and Draco assisted her in getting her things together before they walked out of the library as a pair, hand in hand.

“Wish it was that easy,” Harry muttered.

“It would’ve been, had you been with Ginny,” Ron told him.

“I couldn’t have been, because neither of us are each other’s type,” Harry told him, trying not to be annoyed with Ron.

“Boys, enough,” Hermione said firmly, glaring at Ron before turning back to Harry. “I can tell when you’re holding something back, Harry. What is it?”

Harry sighed, slumping backwards in his chair. “It’s Severus.”

Ron leaned forward. “Have you heard from him, mate?”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s not it...”

“Then, what is it, Harry?” Hermione whispered.

Harry bit down hard on his lower lip at yet another wave of pain at being separated from the man; it was becoming harder and harder as the days went by, and he was unsure as to how long he was supposed to suffer in silence like this. “Remus told me that Tonks told him that Severus only spent the night in Azkaban.”

Ron blinked. “But he was charged—”

“That’s just it, Ron. The charges were dropped,” Harry said softly.

“Harry, are you sure?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I may have asked Dobby to seek out any records, and all the records pointing to Severus have him bailed out of Azkaban, and all charges expunged from ministry and Wizengamot record.”

“Blimey,” Ron said quietly.

“What does this mean?” Hermione queried.

Harry shifted his gaze onto her. “It means that either Severus has friends in high places and is on the run, or powerful Death Eaters got to him and are planning his execution,” he replied, hoping beyond hope that it was the former.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) "A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration" does not have a reported author, according to the Harry Potter wikia site, so I came up with the name "Garnet Bramble" myself
> 
> (2) As a friend of the Dumbledore family, as well as the aunt of Grindelwald, it's entirely possible that Bathilda Bagshot was aware of both Albus's and Grindelwald's sexual leanings. However, I don't personally believe that such information would exist in a textbook meant for children and young adults, but I thought it would be interesting to feature such a thing in the footnotes, for the storys' sake.


	12. Fall Like Rain

With Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Ginny, on respective dates during their first Hogsmeade weekend, Harry trudged alone down to the wizarding village. Seamus and Dean were otherwise occupied with Lavender Brown and Susan Bones, and Neville and Luna were celebrating one of their anniversaries. Harry forced himself not to dwell on the fact that it was considered acceptable for them to have their significant others and not him as he made his way into the hub of Hogsmeade. He stepped into The Three Broomsticks, and Madam Rosmerta immediately served him a butterbeer without being asked.

Harry moved from the counter and into a booth in the back as he nursed his butterbeer, feeling sorry for himself. He loathed the fact that Dumbledore had attempted to seek him out more than once since term began, and the letters from Sirius were quickly managing to grow infuriating. He had pawned them off to Hermione, who explained to Harry’s godfather that, due to his hurting caused directly by him, he needed some space. Therefore, Harry was now permitted to approach Sirius when ready, although he was not looking forward to the Christmas holidays at Grimmauld Place, and had begun asking Ron if he could go to the Burrow instead.

Harry finished his butterbeer and left the appropriate amount of Galleons on the table, before heading to the back and using the loo. As he was finishing up and washing his hands, a silvery light entered the bathroom from behind him and, upon turning around, Harry noticed that it was a Patronus. To his shock, it was a sleek silver doe, who approached him immediately and proceeded to nuzzle at his hand.

 _I am upstairs_ , the doe said in Severus’s voice. _If you would like, you may come up and see me. I am in room seven_.

Harry bolted from the loo immediately thereafter, trying not to draw suspicion climbing up the stairs of The Three Broomsticks as quickly as he could. He counted the doors, discovering that the even numbers were on the left, and the odd on the right, which would put Severus’s room as the fourth door on the right. Dashing forward, Harry knocked at the door, his heart entering his throat as soon as Severus opened it, and was immediately dragged inside. Once the door was shut and warded, Harry threw himself at Severus, kissing him as if he was drowning.

It took him a moment to well and truly realize that he was in his lover’s arms again, and he yanked himself backwards in an unceremonious manner, and proceeded to run his hands up and down Severus’s wiry-muscled frame. “You’re real,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Severus smiled down at him, reaching his own hands upward and using one to cup Harry’s cheek, and the other to card his fingers through his wayward hair. “Last time I checked, that was the case,” he replied, looking Harry over. “You’ve got circles underneath your eyes, Harry, and you’re noticeably thinner...”

Harry worried his lower lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Has our separation caused this change?” Severus asked.

Harry rolled on the balls of his feet for a moment before he broke away from Severus and crossed the room, staring out of the one window the room had, and into the main street of Hogsmeade below. “I... I was waiting for you to contact me,” he whispered.

“You were what?” Severus queried, his tone surprised.

Harry’s fingers drew themselves inward then, and proceeded to bite at the sensitive palms of his hands. “I... I had tea with Remus nearly a month ago, and he told me that you weren’t locked away in Azkaban, but that was all he knew.”

“I see,” said Severus from behind him.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you locked away there,” Harry whispered. “Sirius has told me bits and pieces about the cells, and they’re horrible, Severus, just horrible. The only people that belong in there are Riddle, of course, and Bellatrix, for all she did to Neville. I couldn’t sanction someone I care about being in there...”

“But, I wasn’t in there, Harry...”

“No, you weren’t,” Harry replied, cutting across him as he turned around to face his lover. “Can you tell me where you were?”

Severus shook his head. “No, Harry. I am sorry, but I cannot.”

Harry gave a shaky nod at the reply, but hated it when he spoke again that his voice was threatening to break. “Do you know what that did to me, Severus? Having you arrested right in front of me like that, all on Sirius’s orders, a man who is supposed to love and care for me unconditionally? But, instead, let childhood judgement cloud his current mindset, taking away the one thing that I’ve ever wanted, more so than anything else.”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Harry said fiercely. “I want you more than I ever wanted to get out of living with the Dursleys, no matter how bad it got. I want you more than I wanted the rumors to stop about me being the heir of Slytherin. I want you more than I wanted the mystery to be solved about who had really betrayed my parents. I want you more than I wanted to survive what happened in the graveyard that night. I want you more than my desire for my nightmares, which were at their worst last year, to stop completely. I want you more than anything,” he whispered, the tears suspended on his lashes. “Why can’t you see it?”

“I can see it, Harry,” Severus said quietly.

“Then why can you not let yourself believe it?”

Severus sighed. “My childhood was less-than-savory,” he whispered, hunching his shoulders in a moment of self-reflection. “My mother tried, but was too much underneath the shadow of my father’s influence to do much of anything. I believe she cared for me, but grew too tired of my father’s ways to show it. As for my father, when he discovered that I was a wizard, he went livid, and turned into a complete monster.”

Harry lowered his eyes, the tears streaming down his face. “My mother was the first person to show you love,” he whispered, “and, due to a childish mistake, it was taken away from you. You then had Regulus, but he was murdered by Riddle... You truly haven’t known much love in your lifetime, Severus, and...”

“Don’t pity me,” Severus begged, cutting Harry off.

Harry slowly raised his eyes to the pair of onyx ones, which were currently staring hauntingly back at him. “Pity you?” he whispered, and shook his head. “Of course not! Never. I _empathize_ with you, Severus Snape,” he told him firmly. “I understand first-hand what it is like, to go through years without love, and, when it is the formative ones—like you and I can attest to—it shapes our minds to believe how unworthy we are of what should be, in most cases, a human right. Perhaps if Riddle was shown love, none of this would have happened...”

“If none of this would have happened, Harry, you would still have your mother and father, and you would have never...”

“Don’t,” Harry said, his voice trembling as he finally closed the distance between the two of them and clutched tightly at Severus’s black woolen robes. “Don’t say that, Severus.”

“Why? It is true, Harry. You may have been poisoned against me, by the likes of that godfather of yours who claims to love and cherish you so well...”

“Enough,” Harry said, his voice rising, and Severus mercifully clamped his mouth shut at the onslaught of Harry’s words. “I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Why? You’re orphaned, hardly have any friends that you can trust implicitly...”

“But it was worth it,” Harry told him, and stood on his toes in order to press his forehead up against Severus’s. “I came to a conclusion during this hell of a time that we’ve been separated, Severus Snape. I became lost without you, and I feel as if to live without you would be an utter and complete turmoil...”

Severus swallowed. “I see.”

Harry flattened his hands so that his palms traveled up Severus’s body, and permitted himself to wrap his arms in a secure manner around the man’s neck. “Please,” he whispered.

“What, Harry?” Severus asked.

“Please make love to me,” Harry replied.

Severus’s arms promptly wrapped themselves around Harry’s waist and he brought him almost immediately over to his bed across the room. Thumping Harry down upon it, he quickly divested the teen of his clothes, watching as Harry’s pupils dilated to eleven. Harry arched up then as Severus’s hands roamed their way up and down his body, and Severus was quick to undress as well, wanting desperately to be buried to the hilt inside of Harry.

Harry watched, rapt, as Severus summoned a bottle of lubricant from the drawer of the bedside table, and slowly began preparing Harry with those long, delicious fingers of his. The more he prodded inside of him, the more Harry was filled with anticipation, particularly when an especially frank finger brushed at his prostate. Harry saw stars immediately and felt his insides go slack with relaxation, until finally, Severus withdrew the three fingers he had buried inside his lover, and slicked himself up, permitting himself entrance.

Harry, without hesitation, wrapped his legs around Severus’s torso, which urged his lover even closer, and felt his insides expanding readily for his lover. He felt full, complete, once again, and hated beyond words what the Aurors, Dumbledore, and Sirius had put them both through. There was nothing wrong with them wanting to be together, and he wondered why Severus had been so brutally snatched away from him like that. As he pulled Severus closer, he tasted his lover as his hips canted, harder than ever, wanting to bring them both to orgasm and quickly, for it had been far too long since they had been together.

“Fuck, Severus!” Harry yelled out then, spilling between the two of them.

“Harry... Gods, Harry!” came Severus’s shout shortly thereafter, as he emptied himself inside of Harry with an almighty groan.

Harry lay patiently beneath Severus as a Cleaning Charm was uttered, and felt light as Severus dragged him into his arms, seemingly reluctant to let him go. “I don’t want to go back,” Harry whispered in the interim, wrapping his arms around Severus.

Severus leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know. But you must.”

“I want to stay with you,” Harry said softly.

Severus sighed. “And I would love nothing more than that, Harry. If it was a year from now, and you were seventeen, nothing could touch us.”

Harry worried his lower lip. “Do you hate the age difference?”

Severus pulled Harry closer and nuzzled his hair. “I’ll admit, I don’t love it,” he told him. “If you were older, then we wouldn’t have to hide from the world...”

Harry nuzzled into Severus, inhaling that scent of his that immediately calmed him down. “We could lie,” he said.

Severus chuckled. “You are one of the most well-known wizards in our world, Harry. I doubt we could get away with it.”

“Polyjuice Potion,” Harry said quietly.

Severus straightened then, gently tilting Harry’s chin up to look into his eyes. “What?” he whispered, staring down at him.

“If we used Polyjuice Potion, like Crouch Jr. did when he impersonated Moody, then I could go with you...”

Severus shook his head, leaning down and kissing Harry. “You need your education, Harry. And besides, there are plenty of young men attending Hogwarts with you right now. Surely one of them will turn your head...”

“No!” Harry shouted, yanking himself away from Severus for a moment, before climbing on top of him and staring into his eyes. “Don’t you get it?! You’re it for me! I only want you!” he yelled out then, before wrapping his arms around Severus Snape and proceeding to plunder his mouth in a very forward kiss, but Severus wasn’t about to complain, and drew Harry as close to him as he possibly could, as rain continued to fall outside upon the patrons of Hogsmeade.

~*~

Harry trudged up the steep incline and into the owlery precisely five days after his meeting with Severus in Hogsmeade, which he was still deliciously sore from. As he stepped into the entrance of the place, both Hedwig and Alexander cooed at him in greeting as he stepped forward. He saw Hedwig’s egg and smiled, offering them both some treats before he gently petted at both their heads. Much to his relief, Draco seemed altogether proud of Alexander for getting an egg on Hedwig, and Ginny proclaimed the entire situation a romantic one.

After a few moments, Hedwig proceeded to dig at the warm straw around her, which housed her egg, and Harry’s eyebrows raised automatically as she drew a letter out of there in an effortless motion with her beak. Thanking the snowy owl, Harry took ahold of the letter and moved towards the light of the window just beside their nest, and opened up the letter. He would recognize the spidery scrawl anywhere, and his heart immediately began thumping when he realized what Hedwig was capable of doing.

_Harry—_

_Hedwig’s nest has a remote spell upon it, thus permitting the two of us to use it to send letters back and forth. This way, there won’t be any attention drawn to you if she brought you a letter from me during breakfast in the Great Hall. And then there’s the matter of the egg both she and Alexander are caring for, so this will ensure less trips all around._

_I am safe. I wanted you to know that, once I informed you of the spell placed upon your dear familiar’s nest. I have left Hogsmeade for an undisclosed location, one where only a handful of people know where I am. I’m afraid I cannot tell you where it is, as it would be more dangerous for you to know that._

_I am quite sure your next question is: Have you gone to Spinner’s End? The answer is no. It would be a far too obvious location, as Riddle is aware of it, plus the Wizengamot, as well as many Death Eaters—including the Lestrange’s and the Malfoys. It would be pure suicide for me to return there, as I’m sure your Miss Granger would know. Something tells me that you have given a short version of events to Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, and Draco. I do not fault you for this, Harry; despite my treatment of the Weasleys and Miss Granger, I know that they are true friends to you and can, therefore, be trusted._

_I have been given permission to inform you, however, that it was Dumbledore who managed to get me out of imprisonment, and trial with the Wizengamot. He merely requested that the Aurors bring me to Hogwarts before my booking took place and, once that was set in motion, had me take a Portkey before any of them were the wiser. Kingsley and Moody were very displeased at the turn of events, but I heard from Dumbledore that Tonks laughed. She was found not to have been responsible, however, so I am assured that she will not be sacked._

_Don’t judge Dumbledore too harshly, my Harry. He was merely putting on a public face for the Greater Good, although I can deduce that it will take a bit to forgive him. Now that you have all the facts from his standpoint, at least, the ones you can be privy to, I do hope that the two of you can come together in these dark times. You are the face of the Light, Harry, and yet you will need Dumbledore, as he will need you, as times surely become darker around us all._

_I think of you each and every day, although if you ever inform anyone of that, I will deny it and hex you into next week. I find I am missing your stubborn streak, and wish that we could be together openly. Perhaps, if you wish it, once this blasted war is over, we can go to Paris, just as you wished._

_This letter will go blank as soon as you’ve read it. Feel free to use the parchment yourself to write back to me._

_Severus_

Harry immediately scrawled a note to Severus, conjuring a quill and ink from nothing. He let him know that Hermione was getting on Ginny, understandably, about her OWLs, and so studying for them seemed to have gone onto the back burner. This was fine for Harry, for he was now sleeping and eating regularly again, and hoped beyond hope that Severus would be pleased to hear about that.

He expressed annoyance in the man, however, for not trusting him with his current location. He told him that he understood, given his years of spying, that certain things had to be kept secret, although he did wish that they could have been open about their status. He suddenly found that he didn’t know what he would call them. They were lovers, surely, but Severus didn’t seem like the kind to run around, proclaiming to the select few people he trusted that he had a boyfriend. In fact, the entire word in association with Severus seemed downright laughable, and Harry found that he was hoping he would see Severus again soon, so as he could formally ask him what they were to each other.

Sealing up the letter with the now blank envelope and scrawling Severus’s name to it, he watched as Hedwig lifted herself for a moment, thus permitting Harry to secret the letter within the hay. He petted both Hedwig and Alexander one last time before he stole away from the owlery, wanting to get inside the castle quickly, as he sensed that there was a storm just upon the horizon, despite Professor Trelawney saying that it was due to be sunny all week.

~*~

As the days of autumn and the first term flitted by, Harry again agreed to act as a go-between on behalf of Remus and Tonks. It wasn’t a big deal for him, given that he would just have to give him the Wolfsbane from St. Mungo’s and then merely sit in the sitting room before the fire, either reading ahead in his textbooks or catching up on the essays that nearly every professor seemed keen to dole out. Tonks would utilize the Floo every few hours, asking Harry for an update, and Harry would willingly give her one. Hermione had taught him the Portal Spell—or _Apertum Veni_ —which would permit him to see inside Remus’s inner rooms, as Remus, Dumbledore, Tonks, and everyone else involved did not want Harry to enter the room itself under any circumstances.

It was when Remus blearily stepped out of his rooms on Friday evening, just after dinner, that he was pleased to see Harry sitting there. He smiled at him before he sat in the chair opposite, and partook in the meal that Harry had instructed Dobby to bring. After they spoke for a good hour or so, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room so as Remus could contact Tonks, letting her know that he had survived the latest full moon.

Harry, after he had gathered his things, walked lazily to the common room. Since it was a Friday, curfew was slightly later than usual, and he wasn’t at risk to break it. Once he got upstairs and was just around the corner from the common room, however, he saw that Dumbledore was in the same corridor, and knew instinctively that the man would likely wish to speak to him. Pulling up his messenger bag so that it rested more comfortably on his shoulder, he approached the man the rest of the way and inclined his head, waiting for him to speak.

“I wanted to be sure to give you this, my boy,” Dumbledore said without preamble, and reached into his robes, bestowing a weather-beaten doorknob into his hand.

Harry turned the artifact over and over in his hand. “Um... Thank you, sir?” he asked, peering up at the man, and wondering if Dumbledore had finally lost it.

“You’re excused from classes next Friday,” Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked. “Why, sir?” he asked.

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, but they didn’t fill Harry with warmth and safety as they once had. “Be at the gates on Thursday evening after dinner, plus have a bag, packed for a few days, to take with you that night, and plenty of Galleons,” the man informed him. “Tell no one of this. Your absence shall be explained forthwith.”

“What...?” Harry asked, but was interrupted again by the headmaster.

“It’s a Portkey, Harry,” Dumbledore told him patiently. “It will take you somewhere safe, I assure you. Now, off to bed with you,” he said, and walked away.

Harry shook his head, stuffing the doorknob into his bag before he turned the corner and told the Fat Lady the password before getting inside. He sat with Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Ginny, around the fire, and did the rest of his homework for the weekend. When curfew arrived, Draco took Ginny by the hand and they slipped out of the common room together, although this still annoyed Ron to no end. It was an open secret within the school that Ginny would spend the weekends with Draco, and although it was not encouraged, the pair had never been caught, and so no rules had officially been broken.

Harry went upstairs to bed and hid the doorknob beneath the bed, hoping that nobody would notice it until he was due to fetch it the following Thursday. Harry’s mind became a live-wire that weekend and over the next week, as his thoughts constantly drifted back to the Portkey, wondering what it was that Dumbledore wanted him to do this time. When Thursday evening arrived, Harry had his bag with him, which had been shrunken down, and he would unshrink it once he had passed through the Hogwarts wards. He claimed that he had a headache and was going to bed early, and neither Ron or Hermione, or Draco and Ginny, questioned him as he slipped from the Great Hall.

Harry immediately pulled on his invisibility cloak once it was safe, and drifted out of the Entrance Hall and outside onto the grounds of the castle. He could see the gates in the shadows of the darkness and he immediately went towards them, and was relieved when they swung open for him without incident. Once he was out, he unshrunk his bag and summoned the Portkey out of it, and tapped it with his wand.

“ _Portus_ ,” he whispered.

The doorknob suddenly glowed blue and sprang to life, shaking in his hand as it attempted to work for him. He was then hauled in a circle in a mighty gust of wind before he vanished with an almighty pop, only coming to a standstill beside an old, stone-made building. Once he saw that nobody was around, Harry tore the cloak off himself and stuffed it into his overnight bag and looked around. He was in a graveyard, a church graveyard, which was nothing like the one in Little Hangleton he had been sent to at the end of the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric Diggory back in fourth-year.

Stepping out from behind the building and getting a good look around, he saw that many of the stones around him were littered with autumn leaves of various colors. There was a sign beside the church, declaring it _Godric’s Hollow Cathedral_ , and Harry’s heart proceeded to hammer in his chest at the name. He immediately proceeded towards the headstones beyond, figuring out rather quickly that they had been erected in an alphabetical sense, and he quickly perused the names, finding Potter sooner rather than later.

The headstone read: _James Fleamont Potter, 27 March 1960—31 October 1981_ , and then _Lily Evans Potter, 30 January 1960—31 October 1981_. Harry knelt down in front of the grave, the leaves crunching beneath his knees, and put his head into his hands. He resented the fact that he was still underage, for he could not perform a Cleaning Spell, nor could he conjure a bouquet of flowers to adorn the grave. It was when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, however, that all things legal went out the window and, forgetting himself, he immediately drew his wand out from his pocket and turned around, face immediately flushing when he saw who it was that he had jabbed his wand against.

“Severus?” he whispered.

Severus smiled down at him then, gently easing Harry’s wand from his fingers and putting it into Harry’s overnight bag. “I thought I might find you here.”

Harry swallowed, before he launched himself into Severus’s arms, burying his face in the man’s robes, feeling relieved as he inhaled that familiar scent. “Does Dumbledore...?”

“He knows that I come here each year,” Severus told him softly. “I would think that he would be aware of my movements after all these years.”

Harry bit his lower lip before pulling back. “I’ve been excused from classes tomorrow,” he said softly, “and Dumbledore said my absence would be accounted for throughout the weekend, so I suppose he knows I will be with you.”

Severus yanked Harry towards him then, and Harry could detect by now when the man wanted to kiss him, although he made no move to do so, not yet. “I’ve rooms at the inn down the road,” he said into Harry’s ear.

Harry swallowed at the sensation of his lover’s hot breath upon his neck. “Take me there, then, Severus,” he whispered back.

Severus promptly dragged Harry out of the graveyard, and Harry was relieved that it seemed to be too cold and dark for any of the residents of Godric’s Hollow to be out and about. As they ventured further down the lane, still strewn with autumn leaves, they soon came to a likewise stone building at the end of the road, which had a frayed sign dangling from its thatched roof, declaring it to be _Godric’s Greene Inn_ , and this is where Severus pulled Harry inside, yanking up the hood of his jacket as he did so. He said nothing to anyone, and Harry could practically taste the magic in the air around them as he was pulled up the staircase, only to be pulled to a stop when the innkeeper spoke to Severus.

“Will you be wanting supper, then, Mr. Prince?” the man asked, and Harry’s ears quirked at attention at the name that Severus had been addressed as.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Greene,” Severus said quickly. “Two roasts dinners with all the fixings, if you please. A glass of elf-made red wine and butterbeer. And slice of chocolate gateau and of treacle tart for pudding,” he concluded.

“Very good, Mr. Prince,” Mr. Greene said. “It’ll be ready in an hour.”

As Harry was dragged up the staircase, he didn’t even have the heart to tell Severus that he had already eaten. However, as he was steered into the direction of one room at the end of the hallway at the top of the stairs, something told him he would be very hungry by the time the hour was up. Severus unlocked the door effortlessly and yanked Harry inside without preamble, and dragged the hood off from his face before kicking and locking the door behind him.

Harry was slightly taken aback when Severus did not grab onto him immediately, but could detect the darkness of desire from within the man’s onyx eyes. He took the opportunity to set his bag down upon the couch in the center of the room, which was flanked on either side with two overstuffed armchairs, plus a massive dark marble fireplace beyond, which boasted a fire which roared from within. The mantle held little knick knacks that he was quite sure Dumbledore would have loved to see, as they were a mixture of wizard and Muggle. There was a beautiful gilt-framed mirror upon the wall behind the mantle, and a clock just in front of it.

Deeper into the room was a little area for eating, with a highly-polished and rectangular-shaped cherry wood table, and four corresponding chairs with intricate wood patterns upon their backs, as well as sumptuously-decorated cushions at their base, with lovely legs which curled elegantly into the carpet. There was a linen drape along the center of the table, which hung perfectly off either end of the piece, and the entire piece sat upon a rug as ornate as the one the couch and armchairs did across the room, which Harry had not noticed until now.

Unlike Muggle hotel rooms, of course, there was no television; instead, a cherry wood bookshelf wrapped around the room end-to-end, leaving little to no wall space. Each shelf held impressive volumes and tomes which Harry were quite positive were many centuries old, and were divvied up expertly by subject, and he was quite sure that Madam Pince would be proud. However, there were some breaks within the books, and the spaces held either wizarding photographs—likely of the family who owned the inn—or other knick knacks.

There was an open door upon the other side of the room, just a few feet past the dining table, that Harry noticed housed the bedroom. Another door was open from within, and this, Harry could tell, was the personal bathroom of whomever was currently staying in the room. The bedroom housed an impressive-looking four-poster, also done up in cherry wood, with a canopy, curtains, and matching bedspread. The bed had a night table on each end, and each housed an ornate-looking lamp, which had a matching shade to the bedspread.

Harry took up his bag again and walked into the bedroom without hesitation, picking a side of the bed at random and looking around with a grin on his face. There was a beautiful chandelier suspended from the ceiling, with expensive-looking crystal-cut diamonds dangling from every surface, and genuine candles were being used to light it. There were two windows in the bedroom, one behind each night stand, and the curtains also matched the bedspread and lampshades, Harry noticed. Turning, he looked at one side of the room, which had a vanity table and wardrobe, while the other side housed an end table and an oil painting.

Stepping closer, Harry recognized _Pandora_ by John William Waterhouse, and marveled at how much had happened between when he had first become familiar with the painting, and now. He was older, to be sure, and now, he didn’t hate the man who was currently standing in the doorway behind him. No; he did not yet know if it was love, although it very well could have been. However, such a declaration could potentially scare the man off, and Harry knew full well that he couldn’t possibly go on much longer without the man in his life on a regular basis, so perhaps it would be better to wait and speak only when spoken to.

“Does it meet with your approval?”

Harry turned around then, and smiled at Severus without fear. “Almost,” he said, slowly making his way towards the bed.

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what could I possibly do to make the room completely meet with your approval?”

Harry deliberately dragged his lower lip into his mouth. “Is the room equipped with Silencing Charms?” he asked.

Severus nodded. “Of course. The inn, as I’m sure you felt downstairs, is a magical one. They like to be discreet when it comes to their clientele, if they so wish it.”

Harry reached up his hand then and slowly but surely began to finger at the intricately-carved four-poster beside him. “I see.” He dragged his lower lip back into his mouth before biting down upon it, hard, and slowly lifted his eyes back towards Severus. “I think I have an idea of how the room will meet with my approval.”

Severus inclined his head. “Yes?”

Harry pressed onto the mattress with the palm of his hand, before he nodded to himself—it was as soft as he’d initially imagined upon walking into the master suite. “Perhaps you can begin by fucking me into the mattress,” he responded to his lover coyly, “and then we could partake in the lovely dinner they’ll be serving us.”

Severus gave a stiff nod. “And then?”

Harry did his best not to smirk. “And then we can adjourn to the bathtub, which I can clearly see is a massive beast of a thing,” he went on; although he and Severus had never made love in a bathtub before, he couldn’t deny that the thought was downright appealing. “Following that, if you’re up to it and I can still feel my arse, we’ll return to the bed and make love for several hours, and then resort to the shower to clean ourselves before falling dramatically in bed and falling asleep.”

“And what do you propose we’ll do tomorrow morning?” Severus asked.

Harry gave him a small, genuine smile. “Why, we’ll wake up in each other’s arms,” he said, and crossed the room to the man, wrapping his arms around him, before he stood on his toes to whisper in his ear, “before we do it all over again.”

No sooner than did Harry finish his thought, Severus promptly dragged him backwards just enough to slam his lips onto the teen’s. He took great delight in the mewls that escaped from Harry’s lips, and he full intended to tear all the delicious sounds he could out of the younger man throughout the evening. He then proceeded to tear at Harry’s clothes, growing harder and harder by the minute as he realized that Harry would prove to be no passive participant, and, once his young lover was naked, slammed him down onto the bed.

“Harry...” He whispered.

Harry arched into his touch, savoring the feeling of Severus gently guiding his hand down his face, before he turned his head and pressed a kiss into the man’s palm. “Yes?” he whispered, his voice already throaty with want.

“How can you be sure that it is me that you want?” Severus asked him.

Harry turned his eyes onto Severus then, and his expression was completely serious. “Because I am old enough to know what I want,” he said simply. “My heart calls to you, my Severus, as it has never called to anyone or anything before. And it will continue to do so, for as long as you shall have me,” he declared.

Severus blinked then, and Harry knew that the man was attempting to dissuade tears from entering his eyes, and he somehow succeeded. “And the same goes for me, my Harry,” he told him then, leaning down and kissing him again, and continued in this vein, peppering kiss after kiss along Harry’s jaw. “No matter where we are, no matter how long we must be separated, know that I am always thinking of you, and my heart shall beat for no one else,” the man informed him, before dragging him closer and making sweet, sweet love to him, at least until their supper arrived.

~*~

Harry awoke, bleary-eyed, on Sunday morning, knowing that he was due to return to the castle in Scotland that day. Reluctantly, he tore himself out of his lover’s arms, but Severus was quicker than he ever imagined. Dragging a laughing Harry into the bathroom, he proceeded to pound him into the tiles of the shower for a good twenty minutes, before finally allowing him to explode into his hand. Once Harry had washed Severus’s hands painstakingly, they finished bathing for the moment and got out of the shower. Harry got dressed while Severus merely put on a robe, for he was not due to check-out of the room until two in the afternoon.

Severus had charmed a piece of broken plate into a Portkey for Harry, which would take him directly to the Hogwarts gates. After a rather steamy makeout session in Severus’s room, Harry put on the cloak and was taken from the inn by Severus, who himself was beneath a Notice-Me-Not Charm, and returned to the graveyard, where they stood before the grave of Lily and James Potter once more. At Harry’s request, Severus effortlessly conjured a wreath of white lily flowers to rest upon the headstone, and Harry was just able to weave Severus’s hand in his from beneath the cloak.

Harry was able to indicate to Severus where the Portkey had brought him, and so Severus went behind the building with Harry. They had to be careful, as the church services would be starting in two hours, and, as it was a Muggle church, they could not be seen acting suspiciously. When Severus was sure that it was safe, Harry pulled off the cloak one last time and, standing on his toes, kissed the man goodbye.

“Hedwig’s nest is still charmed to send me letters,” Severus whispered to him. “Wherever I am, they shall always find me.”

Harry nodded, although he had the distinct sensation that his heart was breaking. “Can... Can I ask you something?” he whispered.

“Yes, Harry, of course you may.”

Harry drew himself up to his full height. “If this is still going on by next summer, after my birthday, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts,” he declared. “I know you say that my education is important, but I can always go back and finish my NEWTs later. What I want, right now, is to be with you, for however long we’ve got, until Riddle finally tracks me down and kills me, or I kill him, whichever comes first.”

“Harry...”

“No, please, just listen,” Harry begged him. “If I’m seventeen and you’re still on the run, can I run with you?” Harry asked, point-blank.

Severus hesitated for a moment.

“Yes or no, Severus?” Harry breathed, hating it when he felt tears in his eyes, and hoped beyond hope that Severus wouldn’t think he was attempting to manipulate him.

“Yes,” Severus whispered, a small smile permitting itself to trace his features. “Yes, Harry. I would like that more than anything.”

Harry let out a little shout of relief, before he threw his arms around Severus, kissing him for all he was worth, and pulled back. “Thank you,” he whispered, before he took the piece of broken plate from his pocket, and held it out to Severus. He hated that his hand was shaking, but hoped beyond hope that this separation wouldn’t last forever.

“ _Portus_ ,” Severus whispered, the blue light coming out of the tip of his wand, and enveloping the piece of plate.

Harry held up a hand to Severus, dashing the tears from his eyes with the other, before he was suddenly pulled into the air, leaving the little graveyard in Godric’s Hollow, Severus Snape, and quite possibly his heart, behind.


	13. Fall Where They May

Harry was thankful that Severus had successfully put up blockers within his mind, so as no one could attempt to invade his thoughts when he returned to Hogwarts on Sunday. He was quite positive that Dumbledore had attempted to read his mind on more than one occasion, and was secretly gleeful that his mind was impenetrable. It was as if he had a little piece of Severus with him at all times, and Harry made up his mind to make the best out of a bad situation for, despite the mandatory separation, there were the letters hidden in Hedwig’s nest, as well as Severus’s promise that Harry was constantly on his mind.

There were five days of peace upon his return, and he fell in line with his fellow students and went to his classes, did his assignments, and hung out with his friends. He listened attentively when Ron discussed the first Quidditch match—due to happen at the end of the following month—and it was to be against Hufflepuff. Harry was thankful that he didn’t have to worry about playing the sport, but still kept his Firebolt at the ready and, on clear days, would avidly fly around the pitch whenever there wasn’t a practice scheduled. He loved the feeling of flying, and would often imagine flying off the Hogwarts grounds, miraculously finding Severus, and flying off with him somewhere where nobody could ever find them.

Ron and Hermione, who had claimed they missed Harry the weekend before, asked him to accompany them to Hogsmeade for the second weekend. With Draco and Ginny inseparable and snogging during every free moment they had, they would likely be off at Madam Puddifoot’s or some other romantic spot, so Harry was pleased to go with Ron and Hermione. That Saturday dawned bright and clear, although there was a chill to the air that even the late-autumn sunshine couldn’t take away. Wrapped up warm, the trio walked down the incline from the Hogwarts grounds and into the wizarding village, Hermione in between them, with her arms casually draped along both their shoulders.

“What should we do first?” Ron asked.

“You pick, ‘Mione,” Harry said quickly, not wanting to make the first choice.

“Tomes and Scrolls,” Hermione said, her brown eyes dancing with delight. “There’s a book called _Advanced Rune Translation_ that I wanted to buy a copy of during our trip to Diagon Alley, but I forgot.”

“You bought a lot of books that day, love,” Ron put in.

Hermione nodded, grinning at her boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’d like to go to the shop and see about getting a copy.”

“Sound great, ‘Mione,” Harry said, and permitted Hermione to steer them in the direction of the shop, which housed a white sign with gold letters.

They headed inside, and Harry immediately detected a series of Warming Charms as the bell dinged, signaling that they’d arrived. As they walked up to the counter to ask the wizard behind it about the book Hermione wanted, Harry spotted Neville and Luna, who were standing together in the herbology section. Luna had her blonde head on Neville’s shoulder, while Neville had a large tome open—which Harry saw was called _Sub-Aquatic Botanical Mysteries_ —and was reading aloud to her, while Luna looked on dreamily.

Harry quickly followed Ron and Hermione the rest of the way to the counter; he adored Neville and Luna, he really did, but he’d told the former as much during fourth-year that he didn’t care about plants. Despite having Gillyweed for the second task of the tournament, and he was ever-thankful for its existence, it still didn’t change his opinion on the matter. It was one thing that he and Ron would always agree on, how herbology seemed boring. Although, as time had gone on, he found that the similarities to potions were just too interesting to pass up, and so he found himself reading about the theory above all things.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” said the middle-aged proprietor of the shop, whom Harry remembered was named Bernard Ash. “What can I help you with today?”

“I was hoping to buy a copy of _Advanced Rune Transfiguration_ , Mr. Ash,” Hermione replied politely, smiling brightly at the man, who lived above the shop with his wife, Idella, and their three children, Ember, Blair, and Gale.

“Ah, yes, of course, Miss Granger,” replied Mr. Ash with a quick nod of his head, removing his wand from his robes and flicking it efficiently. “Just received a shipment on books of various topics last week, and got several copies of that one.” The summoned book flew into his hands and Mr. Ash caught it, and then proceeded to wrap it up and put it into a bag. “That’ll be four Galleons, two Sickles, and twenty Knuts, Miss Granger,” said Mr. Ash, once he had wrapped up the book accordingly.

“Thank you, Mr. Ash,” Hermione replied, taking out her little decorative purse and counting out the money, before she handed it over.

Mr. Ash took the money and handed Hermione the book. “Have a good day, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter,” the man said.

“Goodbye, Mr. Ash,” Hermione said, lifting her hand. “Please give our best to Mrs. Ash, and Ember, Blair, and little Gale,” she called.

“Will do! Thank you, Miss Granger!” Mr. Ash said as the trio trooped outside.

“Why do you even like ancient runes, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, as they trooped down the main street of Hogsmeade.

“Because it is a form of a language, Ronald,” Hermione said, shaking her head at the notion that her boyfriend would never appreciate it.

“You don’t like speaking English?” Ron queried.

“Harry speaks two languages,” Hermione put in.

“Not by choice,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Besides, you cannot merely get by on just English and Latin,” Hermione went on, shooting Harry an apologetic look as they kept walking.

“Do you speak more languages than that, Hermione?” Harry wanted to know.

Hermione flushed and lowered her eyes. “Yes. Mum and Dad got me French lessons from the time I was about eight. I still take courses for a month every summer, just to make sure that I don’t forget it.”

Harry saw that Ron was about to say something untoward, so he made a hasty decision as they walked along the cobblestone lane. “Anyone fancy a butterbeer?”

Ron immediately seemed to forget about Hermione’s revelation about her French lessons, and high-tailed it towards The Three Broomsticks. “Hope we can get a table!” he called over his shoulder as he ran towards the door.

“Bet you five Galleons that Ron still fancies Madam Rosmerta,” Hermione muttered under her breath, and Harry put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards the establishment, as Ron opened the door for them.

Ron found them a table in the back part of the place, and a waiter came by and asked for their order. Ron sat beside Harry as Hermione requested a butterbeer for each of them, with some ginger to be added to hers. As they sat at the wooden table and chairs, Ron permitted himself to look around the place and immediately stiffened from beside Harry.

“What?” Harry demanded of him.

“Oh...” Ron muttered. “Bloody hell.”

Hermione followed Ron’s gaze and sighed audibly, as she caught sight of Draco and Ginny having a whispered conversation in an intimate booth across the way. “Really?” Hermione demanded of him, and Harry nudged Ron in the ribs.

“Slick git,” Ron continued.

“Honestly, Ronald, they’re only holding hands,” Hermione whispered across the table at him in a mock-scolding tone.

Ron and Harry turned automatically to look back at the booth which housed Draco and Ginny, and it was then that the blond dipped his head to meet the redhead’s lips.

“And snogging,” Hermione said almost immediately, ripping her eyes away from the scene, why Harry didn’t know, although he wagered a guess that she was uncomfortable that they seemed to be so open with one another in a public setting.

“I’d like to leave,” Ron said, straightening up in his chair, which caused Harry to turn over and look at him, just as their waiter placed their drinks upon the table.

“What?!” Hermione demanded, obviously attempting not to laugh at the entirety of the situation placed in front of them. “You can’t be serious!”

“That happens to be my sister!” Ron shot back.

“ _So_?!” Hermione asked, leaning back in her chair. “What if she looked over here and saw you snogging me? Would you expect her to get up and leave?”

Ron went silent at that, as Harry reached across the table and gathered up his butterbeer, sipping it slowly, preparing to enjoy the show.

“Honestly, Ronald, you barely snog me in the castle anymore as it is,” Hermione said, her brown eyes filled with hurt at the sudden revelation.

Ron swallowed. “Yeah,” he admitted, “only because you’ve been on Ginny for the last several weeks about her OWLs.”

“OWLs are important,” Hermione countered. “They’ll decide her future academic progress for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.”

Ron sighed. “I know that, Hermione. You badgered me and Harry about it last year. I remember your thoughts on them quite well, thank you.”

Hermione, who had picked up her butterbeer to take a sip, choked on it at Ron’s words. “Well, I didn’t know that my attempts to help you, or your sister, would be treated like I’ve done something wrong!” she cried out.

“I never said it was _wrong_ , Hermione, Merlin,” Ron said, dragging a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is that there’s more to a relationship than studying. Maybe I don’t want to do a study date every damn time, and we could do something else.”

“Like what?! Fly around the pitch?!” she cried out, her voice breaking. “You _know_ I hate flying, Ron, just as much as I hate Quidditch, and I only go to the bloody games because you’re involved in them!”

Ron reddened at the notion that Hermione had finally admitted to hating Quidditch. “You know how much Quidditch means to me, Hermione, and to my family...”

“Well, it likely means as much to you as studying means to me,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But studying is so _boring_ ,” Ron complained.

“One could say the same thing about Quidditch,” Hermione shot back.

“Quidditch is not boring!” Ron hissed at her. “You never know what’s going to happen next, plus professional players are making up new moves all the time, not to mention the requirements to be eligible for the cup change every year—”

“That’s what attracts me to book-reading, Ronald,” Hermione told him, obviously attempting to keep her temper with him. “With a new book comes a new theory, and new information that hasn’t been discovered or read about before—”

“Which can go obsolete in a matter of minutes, given that new discoveries are made like clockwork, in any given subject,” Ron growled.

“Not for a long time!” Hermione cried out, lifting her butterbeer to her lips. “And you would do well to remember that, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron stiffened, looking Hermione over. “Um... You’ve got a bit of...”

Hermione flushed red at the notion that Ron was calling attention to the butterbeer foam upon her top lip, which she quickly did away with using the arm of her sweater. Tears in her eyes, she slammed the appropriate amount of Galleons needed to pay for her butterbeer onto the surface of the table, before getting to her feet, the chair squealing in protest along the floor. She made a grab for her book from Tomes and Scrolls before she ran out of The Three Broomsticks without looking back, her sobs echoing throughout the room until the door slammed behind her, causing Ron to look over at Harry, wide-eyed, and Harry to regard him with disapproval.

~*~

Harry’s thoughts about running away with Severus came crashing down to earth at breakfast the following Thursday in the Great Hall. He was communicating as a messenger on behalf of Ron and Hermione, who were still not speaking to one another. However, he had gotten Ginny involved, and Ginny agreed to whip Ron into shape, once she had the time. After hearing about the situation from Harry, plus catching most of it in The Three Broomsticks, Ginny was completely on Hermione’s side in the matter, and resolved to have the pair of them back to understanding one another by the weekend at the latest.

It was when Hedwig zoomed into the Great Hall, as Harry was eating some scrambled eggs and toast, that all bets were officially off. Harry looked up as the snowy owl flew gracefully into view, and pulled a bit of rasher onto his plate for a treat for her. Hedwig cooed as she landed, accepting the rasher immediately and offering Harry her leg, obviously eager to return to her nest, and to Alexander. Harry petted her head for a moment before untying the letter, watching as she flew up into the air and out the window, returning to the owlery to her mate and their soon-to-be hatched chick.

Opening the letter and pushing his breakfast plate aside, Harry was quick to recognize the loopy handwriting which greeted his gaze. He raised his eyebrows as he read the letter before him, and found that he was unknowing as to why it had been sent to him in the first place.

_Harry—_

_Please join me in my office after breakfast. I will see to it that Professor Sprout gets a note saying that you will be late to herbology this morning._

_The password is Fudge Flies._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

Harry pocketed the letter before pulling his plate back towards him. He had promised Severus to eat accordingly and appropriately, as it made the man feel guilty when he forced starvation onto himself in a deliberate fashion. As such, Harry had filled out to an appropriate weight, and he had taken up walking up and down the grounds on a regular basis, in addition to flying, in order to keep in shape.

Harry gathered his things, saying goodbye to Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny, letting the first three know that he would meet them in herbology as soon as possible. He left the Great Hall and went upstairs towards the headmaster’s tower, saying the password upon reaching the gargoyle, and the beast promptly jumped out of the way, thus clearing his path. He went up the revolving staircase and the door opened automatically for him, and he stepped inside with caution, spotting the headmaster speaking softly with Fawkes from across the room.

“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore said warmly as he turned to see Harry stepping into the office, with the door shutting behind him. “Come and sit,” he said, gesturing to his desk, which he himself moved to sit behind. “Can I offer you anything? A cup of tea? Lemon drop?”

“No, thank you, sir. I’m still quite full from breakfast,” Harry replied, but accepted the offer of having a seat and did so.

Dumbledore sat opposite Harry and smiled. “I suppose you’re wondering why I summoned you here, Harry, instead of just allowing you to go off to herbology with your friends.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll admit, it did cross my mind, sir.”

Dumbledore returned Harry’s nod. “Have you been wondering why I re-hired Professor Slughorn last summer, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I assumed it was because he was an old friend and you wanted to get the Death Eaters off his tail, sir.”

“That was part of it, Harry,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “But there was something far greater that I need from him.”

“Which is?” Harry asked.

“Professor Slughorn holds onto something quite precious, Harry, something that I desperately need in order to fully solve this debacle with Riddle,” Dumbledore said plainly.

Harry gave a nod. “I see.”

“Horace has informed me more than once, Harry, since term began, about how well you’ve been performing in potions,” Dumbledore went on.

Harry gave a small smile. “I like the class, sir,” he told him.

“Good, that’s very good, Harry,” Dumbledore praised him. “I suppose you remember all the photographs of the students that Professor Slughorn showed you?”

Harry nodded at the man. “Yes, sir. They were former students, he said, and went on to tell me that he would get favors from him. The editor of _The Daily Profit_ always accepts his owl when or if he wants to comment on something important, or Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, gives him free tickets whenever he wants them.”

“Exactly, Harry,” Dumbledore said, obviously pleased that Harry had remembered. “Professor Slughorn collects students that are valuable to him, and gets them involved in his student organization, the Slug Club,” the headmaster explained. “Professor Slughorn has been trying to collect you, Harry, from the start-of-term, in fact. You would be his crowning jewel, if only you would permit it to happen.”

Harry’s throat went dry. “And... What would this entail, sir?”

“Listening to him speak about any old thing—Horace always loved it when people he deemed to be important heard him,” Dumbledore said softly. “And then there is the matter of the Slug Club, Harry. Has he mentioned it to you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. Both Hermione and I have been invited. He says that we’re due to have our first supper party at the end of the week.”

“Ah, yes, the supper parties,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. “The house-elves go all-out for them, as they don’t often get the opportunity to serve particularly gourmet meals with a full course menu. They enjoy it,” the man informed him.

“I see,” Harry said softly.

“There is one other thing I must show you, Harry,” Dumbledore said, and got to his feet, before he crossed the room and wandlessly opened a glass cupboard from the other side of the room. It was a breathtaking display of magic as the headmaster levitated his pensieve flawlessly out of the cupboard, and allowed it to rest within the stone obelisk that he had reserved for it. “Come over here, Harry,” the man said, and Harry got to his feet and stepped forward, and, when Dumbledore gave the command, Harry bent and peered into the pensieve.

He was pulled down through the slightly-murky depths of the memory, and, when he finally reached the earth again, he found himself standing in an office that was unfamiliar to him. He noted that a noticeably-younger Professor Slughorn was sitting at the head of the table, wearing a woolen tweed suit, and was conversing with a plethora of other young men. Harry knew that, other than Slughorn’s visibly younger appearance, it took place at sometime in the past, due to the older-looking Slytherin uniforms that various students were wearing.

The conversations were slightly muffled, leading Harry to believe that this part of the memory wasn’t the important part. He caught a word here and there, and one of the young men—who looked familiar to Harry, although he couldn’t place him—mentioned Professor Merrythought, and that the woman was retiring. Harry had mentioned the professor to Hermione soon after Dumbledore had introduced him to Slughorn, and she had explained who she was by finding information about her in _Hogwarts: A History_.

A few moments later, the vast majority of the party broke off, with Professor Slughorn seeing them off at the door of his classroom. There was a distinct _cling_ of something from across the room, which Harry noted as coming from an hourglass that Slughorn had mentioned more than once that he was particularly proud of. The young man, whom Harry had deemed familiar but could not place, was standing beside the table which housed the hourglass, and was gently tapping it with his fingernails, which caused Professor Slughorn to turn around, and give a surprised expression towards the young man.

“Tom?” he asked, stepping forward, and Harry felt his heart lurch as he suddenly knew why this young man had seemed so familiar. “What is it? Is everything all right?”

The young Tom Riddle stood before Professor Slughorn, and deliberately placed a smile upon his face. “I wanted to discuss something with you, sir.”

Professor Slughorn immediately relaxed at his tone of voice and nodded. “Of course, my boy, of course. Ask whatever you like,” he said quickly.

“I was in the library the other night, in the Restricted Section,” Tom replied, and Professor Slughorn looked a bit disturbed at the revelation, “and I came across a piece of rare magic that I couldn’t quite understand.”

Professor Slughorn nodded. “Yes? Go on.”

“And it got me thinking,” Tom went on, “are there certain kinds of magic that you’re not allowed to teach us?”

Professor Slughorn swallowed. “Well, I suppose that would all depend upon this piece of rare magic you found, Tom,” he replied.

“It’s called,” Tom said, standing before the man, “a...”

Harry leaned closer to hear him, but the speech became garbled, and he grew annoyed that young Tom Riddle’s words seemed to be swallowed up by the passage of time.

“I know nothing about what this piece of rare magic is!” Professor Slughorn suddenly raged, his expression turning black. “And, even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you! Now, get out of here at once!” he ordered, causing Harry to lurch upwards unexpectedly, as the memory clouded, and he soon found himself back in the headmaster’s office.

“Sir?” Harry whispered, his voice trembling. “What was...?”

“That, my boy, was a tainted memory,” Dumbledore responded softly. “Horace was so ashamed of the information which he shared with a young Tom Riddle that night, that this is what he permitted himself to share with me.”

Harry swallowed. “So, you want me to get the real memory, sir?” he asked.

Dumbledore gave a nod. “This memory is everything,” he told Harry, his fingers dipping into the pensive, causing the liquid to drip off the ends of the withered sticks. “It could potentially save and preserve our way of life.”

Harry briefly bit at his lower lip. “You said that Professor Slughorn would try and collect me,” he said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded. “I did.”

Harry stared straight ahead, not looking at the man. “Do you want me to let him?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied, and Harry gave a stiff nod, unknowing what he was going to do, but knowing that he had to try.

~*~

The day after the full moon, Harry was still feeling exhausted from acting as Remus and Tonks’s go-between. Even though he knew he was doing the right thing, it was still emotionally draining to literally babysit a beast. He had spent the entirety of his time babysitting Remus doing his homework, or utilizing the Portal Spell to check up on him. This meant that, when he finally arrived back in the common room, he said a brief goodnight to his friends and ran up to the dormitory to collapse into bed. He had slept the night away, and was thankfully up in time for breakfast the following morning.

“What do we have first again, ‘Mione?” Ron asked.

Hermione, who sat primly across from him, hadn’t fully forgiven her boyfriend yet for their mutual outburst in The Three Broomsticks, however, with Ginny’s intervention, they were quickly finding their way back to one another. “Defense with Professor Lupin,” she replied, and turned immediately to look at Harry. “How is he?”

“He seemed fine before I left last night,” Harry reported. “Dobby’s instructed to check in on him, make sure he’s got enough food if need be, and alert the proper authorities if necessary.”

Hermione nodded. “Good,” she replied.

Harry checked the time and discovered that they had nearly an hour before class began, and stuffed his face with a good amount of rashers, toast, and eggs. “I want to get up to the owlery before class,” he explained.

Ron’s attention perked up at that. “Checking in on Hedwig?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, as Ginny’s attention was caught, and, by default, Draco’s. “Let’s all go up together. I’m sure Alexander would be glad to see the two of you,” he said, nodding towards Draco and Ginny.

Ginny nodded. “I’ve got charms first,” she said, thinking it over. “I suppose it’ll be all right,” she said, leaning into Draco’s arm.

After everyone had finished eating and casted appropriate Cleaning Charms onto their hands, they left the Great Hall and headed into the Entrance Hall, before walking outside and going straight for the owlery. It was late-November now, so each was boasting a thick sweater made by Molly, even Draco, and so the cool air didn’t nip at them too terribly as they walked the grounds. Once they arrived at the steep stone incline of the ramp leading to the owlery, Harry headed up first, Draco just at his heels, and they stepped inside.

“Hey, there, girl!” Harry called to Hedwig. He drew back immediately as Alexander seemed to readily scold him and, upon stepping closer, saw the reason. “Draco!” he cried, yanking the blond inside and pointing to the nest. “Look!”

Draco immediately was grinning like an idiot at the sight before them, taking in Hedwig nuzzling the little chick from within the nest. Its feathers were an attractive gray color, mixing that of its mother’s snow-white and its fathers coal-black. Stepping closer, Harry and Draco petted Hedwig and Alexander respectively, who cooed indulgently at their masters seeing their little chick for the first time.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, “send a Patronus to Hagrid, would you? He can check over the chick and tell us if its male or female.”

“Of course,” Hermione said, quickly dashing the tears from her eyes at the emotional moment, and her otter was soon springing into action, and darting immediately to Hagrid’s hut. She leaned into Ron then, and he immediately held her close to him. “I don’t want to fight anymore,” she said quietly to him.

“Neither do I,” Ron replied. “Just because we’re together and we love each other, doesn’t mean we have to like the same things.”

“I’ll continue to go to your games,” Hermione told him.

“And I’ll do my best at studying,” Ron said quietly.

Hagrid came up the ramp of the owlery a few moments later, and looked the five of them over with confusion. “‘Ermione’s Patronus didn’t ‘ave a message fer me,” he said, looking around the space offered to him. “Did you five ‘ave need o’ me?”

“Hedwig’s egg has hatched, Hagrid,” Harry said quickly, and Hagrid was immediately beaming at Harry’s words.

“We were wondering if you could check the chick over, and see if its male or female,” Draco told the half-giant.

Hagrid nodded. “O’ course,” he replied, stepping closer and petting Hedwig and Alexander, who seemed altogether pleased at the attention. “Can I see th’ mite, then?” he asked, and, once the owls bowed their heads, Hagrid gently lifted the little chick into his arms, who cooed softly at the warm hands. “All righ’,” he said, looking it over for a few moments, before nodding in approval, and gently placing it into Hedwig’s nest. “It’s a girl,” he proclaimed, and Harry and Draco looked at each other.

“You win this round, Scarhead,” Draco said with a grin.

“I got to name it if it was a girl,” Harry explained, “and I’ve got a really lovely name in mind, if I do say so myself.”

“What’s the name, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Galentine,” Harry replied, “the patron saint of friendship.”

“That’s really lovely, Harry,” Hermione said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“What name did you pick, Draco?” Ron asked. “If it were a boy.”

“Francis, for the patron saint of animals,” Draco said softly.

“I think either name is lovely,” Ginny whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

Harry smiled at the couples before giving a look towards Hedwig and Alexander, who were cooing at Galentine, who nuzzled deeper into her mother’s feathers. He turned towards the half-giant then, and said, “Thanks, Hagrid.”

Hagrid nodded. “O’ course, Harry,” he replied. “Thanks fer havin’ me ‘ere.”

~*~

Slughorn’s first supper party went off without a hitch, with Harry witnessing Cormac McLaggen attempting to seduce Hermione through licking chocolate sauce off his fingertips. After they all left, Hermione and Ginny effortlessly distracted the man, while Harry slipped into the potion master’s study, although he found that sneaking around didn’t have the appeal it used to, now that Severus wasn’t around to catch him. Pushing the thoughts of Severus out of his mind, Harry scrupulously went over towards the potion professor’s desk, and leafed through the papers on its surface, before looking through the drawers.

Finally, he found that the man had some letters from Riddle, and Harry found that his heart was pumping dramatically in his ears. Taking his wand out of his pocket and using the Copying Spell Hermione had taught him, he put the information directly into his wand, which could be copied at will onto blank parchment when the time came. There was vital information within these papers, even Harry saw that, but he knew that he had to get them back where they’d came from so as Professor Slughorn would be none the wiser.

Getting his invisibility cloak out from his pocket, Harry draped it around himself and quickly got out of the inner office. He made his way through to where the supper party had been hosted, and saw that Hermione and Ginny were just finishing up with the man. As soon as the door opened, he made it a point to brush up against the two of them before he was off like a light, running down the corridors and towards Dumbledore’s office.

“Cockroach Clusters!” he hissed at the gargoyle, who jumped out of his way, and Harry leapt up the revolving staircase.

“Come in, Harry,” called Dumbledore from the other side.

Harry pulled off the cloak and stepped inside. “Sir,” he said in greeting.

“Have you gotten any further information, my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded. “May I have some parchment, please, sir?” he asked.

Dumbledore looked surprised at the request, but nevertheless summoned a stack to be placed upon his desk. “There you are, my boy.”

Harry stepped forward, whispering, “ _Exemplum Atramento_ ,” and dragging the tip of his wand along the surface of the parchment, the words of Riddle and Slughorn immediately becoming apparent to the naked eye. Harry was careful and meticulous, only stopping once during the transcribing of the final letter, with the date given as the thirty-first of October 1981. With much of his magic depleted, he collapsed into the chair behind him, leaving the headmaster to summon him a bottle of Pepper-Up Potion, which Harry drank down quickly.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, picked up the varying pieces of parchment and was scanning them as fast as lightning, shaking his head, no hint of twinkle in either eye. He looked visibly disturbed by what it was he was reading, which Harry understood, given that he had been the one to read the information first. Dumbledore, at last, lowered the final piece of parchment down upon his desk, before performing a Verification Spell, the words “ _Quin Verba_ ” falling nearly soundlessly from his lips. The parchment before the two of them glowed silver once the words were spoken, thus authenticating the words passed between Riddle and Professor Slughorn, so long ago now.

“He blames himself,” Harry whispered in the silence.

Dumbledore swallowed before nodding. “Yes. And, in most circumstances, I would have to agree with that assessment. However, not now. Not in this.”

Harry blinked, looking up then and shaking his head. “No matter what he became, sir, Riddle _was_ the child here...”

“He was not a child when it began, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, lowering his eyes, regret radiating off the man in waves. “And Riddle manipulated Horace, who has never been of strong mind, I’m afraid...”

Harry swallowed. “So, what does this mean?” he asked.

“Once Horace gave the information to Riddle that he so desperately wanted, it was a simple matter to coax the man into his bed without remorse,” Dumbledore replied, and Harry shut his eyes, not wanting to even consider the images that freely flew through his head at that.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered.

“Neither can I,” Dumbledore replied. “It is why the topics of Death Eaters and such mortifies him to the very core, Harry. He is afraid that he will be forced into Riddle’s bed once again. I never thought it possible for the aggressor in a rape situation to be from the younger party, but, I suppose even I can learn a new thing or two each and every day...”

Harry felt sickened that he knew such private information about a professor, as well as the notion that he had literally snuck into the man’s office—a man who reportedly trusted him—in order to get it out. “I feel ill,” he said aloud.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. As do I.”

He straightened up in his chair, however, fully prepared to be an adult about this. “How do you think he lives with it, sir?” he whispered.

Dumbledore sighed. “Oh, I suspect that Horace has _Obliviated_ himself of a considerable amount of his previous years, and not just because of this,” he said softly. “The fact that he thought so well of Riddle, only to have it come and smack him in the face for his loyalty later, must have been such a devastating blow for him.”

Harry swallowed, curling himself inward as he sank deeper in his chair. “It was horrible,” he whispered, “having to read that last letter, considering what day it was sent.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore acknowledged, “I’m quite sure that it was. It was likely sent within hours of the devastating crime, after Hagrid came to collect you on Sirius’s motorbike.”

Harry felt a bitter taste in his mouth at the mention of Sirius. “Yes,” he muttered.

“Don’t judge Sirius too harshly, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently.

Harry shook his head at the man; he really didn’t want to talk about this.

“I know that things have been strained between the two of you since the summer,” Dumbledore went on, “but perhaps you didn’t appreciate the bigger picture.”

“I don’t wish to discuss it, sir,” Harry said, his eyes snapping towards the headmaster. “I... I really don’t wish to. Please.”

Dumbledore sighed, likely wishing that Harry would open up, but also realizing that it would not do well to push him. “Very well, then,” he replied, banishing the papers into a portion of his desk across the room. “How was the supper party?”

Harry groaned inwardly; all he really wanted to do was go to bed, given that it was a Wednesday evening, and he had potions first, and he was still unaware of how he would be able to face Slughorn the following day. “Fine, I suppose...”

“I detect hesitation there, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly.

Harry did his best not to roll his eyes. “McLaggen was acting inappropriately throughout the meal,” he admitted.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Really? Do tell.”

“He created a breast out of a canape,” he replied, shuddering, “not to mention that he sucked at his spoon during the soup course,” Harry said, flushing at the memory. “Then, when the main course came, he sucked at the meat in the roast, rubbed the innards of the potatoes along his lips, and made a mess of the gravy. Then, during pudding, he continually dipped his fingertips in the provided chocolate sauce and stared at Hermione, while sucking at them.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “So, he was acting this way, throughout the entirety of the meal, and directing it towards Miss Granger?”

Harry nodded emphatically. “Yes,” he replied.

Dumbledore nodded his head. “Well, that will never do,” he said, turning to look at Fawkes without a moment of hesitation. “Fawkes, please deliver a message to Minerva, that Cormac McLaggen will be in detention with Mr. Filch until the end of term for his sexual harassment of Miss Hermione Granger,” he said.

Fawkes bowed his head, twittering defiantly—letting Harry, Dumbledore, and all the portraits know what he thought of McLaggen—before he flew off and out of the office.

Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore, shocked. “I...”

“You’re wondering why I did not take points,” the man said.

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, I like to think that Gryffindor House does not tolerate sexual harassment,” the man explained to Harry. “I believe that setting an example this way I far more appropriate,” he said, and the twinkle in his eye was back, although it did nothing to settle Harry’s nerves.

~*~

Harry was summoned to the Room of Requirement by a strikingly familiar dog Patronus come Saturday, and knew exactly who it was from. Leaving Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco behind with a word, he made his way into the room, finding that Sirius was sitting in an exact replica of the parlor at Grimmauld Place. Harry perched in the second chair provided, knotting his fingers together, altogether uncomfortable with the situation.

Sirius sighed a few moments later, deducing that he would have to be the one to formally break the ice between them. “Harry...”

“What?”

“I suppose you’re wondering what brought me here.”

Harry sighed. “Not here to see Remus?” he asked.

Sirius visibly swallowed. “I will be seeing Remus while I am here, don’t doubt it,” the man said, his blue eyes filled with sadness. “However, I thought I might pay a visit to you first.”

Harry grumbled under his breath. “Well, here I am,” he muttered.

Sirius looked torn before he shook his head. “Harry, there are several elements at play here, which you couldn’t even begin to—”

“Please,” Harry said, his voice firm, “don’t tell me what I can and can’t understand. I haven’t been a child for as long as I can remember, and I’m damn near more intelligent than most people give me credit for. Tell me, and let me decide for myself whether or not I can understand all these supposed elements at play.”

Sirius nodded, never having considered that before. “Very well,” he replied. “First off, I am sorry that I separated you and Snape. I can see now that I acted rashly, and permitted my childhood hatred to get in the way. You can’t imagine how sorry I am...”

“Actions speak louder than words, Sirius,” Harry said carefully. “I don’t think I can forgive you yet, if at all, for what you’ve put me through.”

Sirius nodded again. “I suppose I can understand that.”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “You said ‘elements’. Plural.”

Sirius gave a nod. “I did.”

“What elements were you referring to? Surely, not the age difference, and the several conflicts of interest my involvement with Severus caused. I know he is a spy for the Light, which is why he and I decided to be careful about the entire arrangement. And then there was the notion that he was my professor, so surely someone else would have to mark my assignments...”

“Yes, those were part of them,” Sirius acknowledged with a nod of his head. “However, there was another element to consider, one which you’ve yet to bring up.”

Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t aware that there was another element,” he replied.

Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair, positioned opposite Harry. “In the Muggle world, when a child is brought into a home in a foster care arrangement, there are certain rules that the child must follow,” the man said softly. “One of them is appropriate behavior. Despite your feelings for Snape, one can make it a point to say that the two of you engaged in inappropriate behavior by partaking in...a relationship,” he said at last.

Harry blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“Had Muggle authorities caught wind of what was going on, Harry, they could have taken you away from me,” Sirius said softly.

Harry swallowed; he may have been mad at Sirius and currently unable to forgive him, but living with him at Grimmauld was several times better than living at 4 Privet Drive. “Oh,” he said softly as he sank further into his chair.

“I take it you didn’t consider that, did you?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he admitted.

“The Wizengamot has several rules applying to this as well,” Sirius went on, “which, because of Albus blocking Snape’s charges from being filed, makes you eligible to remain living with me, as the facts were never put on record.”

Harry dragged a hand down his face; it hadn’t been all about Severus after all. “I didn’t think about that...any of it,” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “Well, now you know,” he said softly.

Harry swallowed, before sitting up straight. “As I said, Sirius, I am not prepared to forgive you for the hell you put me through,” he said.

Sirius inclined his head. “I understand,” he replied.

“I will continue to request some space from you, and would appreciate it if you permitted me to communicate with you when I’m ready,” he went on.

Sirius gave a nod. “Understood,” he told Harry.

“And, finally,” Harry said, getting to his feet, “I wanted to let you know that Molly and Arthur have invited me to stay at the Burrow for Christmas, along with Hermione and Draco, and I’ve accepted. We all have.”

Sirius looked hurt, yet understanding, at this sudden turn of events. “I understand your meaning completely, Harry.”

Harry nodded stiffly. “Thank you,” he said softly, before turning on his heel and making his way towards the door. He hesitated for a moment, before he turned back again. “You’re my father, for all intents and purposes, and parents are supposed to love their children in an unconditional sense,” he said.

Sirius got to his feet. “I do love you unconditionally, Harry,” he assured him.

Harry sighed. “When all of this is over, Severus and I will be together, publicly, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can say about it.”

“Harry...”

“No,” Harry said, his voice firm, “let me speak. Once my duty is over, or once I turn seventeen—whatever comes first—Severus and I are going to be together.”

Sirius looked Harry over. “Are you in love with him?”

Harry swallowed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I don’t know because I haven’t had a lot of love in my life, and neither has he.”

Sirius nodded. “I understand.”

“When Severus and I go public,” Harry went on, “can you support us?”

Sirius sighed bitterly. “If it is truly what you want.”

“It is,” Harry assured him.

“But, do you love him?” Sirius pressed.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said again, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor. “All I know is, I can’t live without him,” he replied, as the stone wall appeared, sealing off the Room of Requirement, giving Harry a proper escape route from a man who had successfully torn his life apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Exemplum Atramento - Copy ink  
> (2) Quin Verba - Verify words


	14. Fall Down

December dawned and with it, Sirius’s exit from the castle and the grounds of the wizarding school in Scotland. Harry had remained in his dormitory as soon as he’d woken up and showered from a restless sleep, instructing Dobby to bring him some breakfast so as he wouldn’t have to deal with the Great Hall that morning. As soon as he’d finished his eggs, sausages, and toast, he cast a Cleaning Charm upon his hands and went downstairs to the common room, staring out at the expansive grounds where Hogwarts sat.

Snow had fallen during the night and with it, various footprints of a plethora of students who had gone out as soon as breakfast was over. As he stared outside, face pressed against the window pane, he saw the figure of Sirius, making his way presumably from the Entrance Hall and onto the grounds, and into the Forbidden Forest beyond. Harry saw that the man appeared to be sullen in his demeanor, leading Harry to believe that Sirius was saddened by the outcome of their conversation the day before, as well as being unable to say goodbye.

Harry pushed off from the window then, remembering that he was due to meet Ron, Hermione, and Draco in the library before lunch to do some work on their transfiguration essay, which was due the following Friday. Just as he was about to head back upstairs to gather his things, there was a sudden _whoosh_ of something, which caught him completely off-guard. The thing, enrobed in a distinctive silver light, was that of a wolf Patronus, and Harry held his ground, knowing that Remus would likely want a word with him, based on his behavior of late.

 _Harry_ , intoned the wolf, _please meet me in my office at your earliest convenience. I asked Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco of your whereabouts, and they stated that you were in the dormitory still, and that you were due to meet them in the library before lunch. This will not take long, I assure you, but do bring your things anyway_.

Harry watched as the wolf disappeared, and he had detected a slight edge to Remus’s voice. He sighed, quickly summoning his things from his dorm before making his way out of the portrait, his wand in his pocket. Drawing his bag further up his shoulder, Harry trudged out of the domain of Gryffindor Tower, and towards the Serpentine Corridor. Once he arrived, he pushed open the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and walked through it, towards the staircase in the back, before he climbed up them and let himself in. The familiar sight of Remus’s office did nothing to calm him, and, as he stepped into Remus’s inner chambers, he felt a lump rising in his throat.

“Remus?”

Remus was sitting in one of the armchairs beside the fire, a tea service laid out upon the glass-topped table between the two chairs. He slowly lifted his eyes to Harry, his hands steepled beneath his chin, and slowly opened his mouth. “Come in, Harry.”

Harry swallowed, but nevertheless crossed the room, the door swinging shut automatically behind him, and made his way over to the chair. At Remus’s nod, he told the enchanted tea set upon the table how he liked his tea—milky, two sugars—and soon the individual cup came flying into his hands. Harry, who had by this time lowered his bag to rest upon the side of his armchair, tentatively took the cup into his hands, and began to sip it. Black tea, his favorite, he thought to himself, and suddenly realized that he didn’t know what Remus’s favorite kind of tea was, but knew that this was hardly the time to ask such a question.

“Harry,” Remus said after several minutes of silence; the only things that could be heard in the interim were the fire crackling beside them, and the occasional intake of breath whenever Harry sipped at his tea. “I wish to discuss Sirius with you.”

Harry banished his tea cup back onto the table; suddenly, he was not thirsty anymore. “I suppose I can understand that,” he said quietly, his fingers already clawing at his palms. “What did you want to know?” he asked.

“He saw me yesterday, after your discussion in the Room of Requirement,” Remus continued, as he reached down and took a chocolate-covered shortbread from off the plate of the tea service. “I could tell that the conversation hadn’t gone according to plan.”

Harry felt a rush of anger flowing through him then, but did his best to tap it down. “That means that Sirius expected us to have a tearful reunion, me telling him that I was wrong for wanting a relationship with someone of my own choosing—regardless of his feelings on the matter, or who I’m with—and that I’ll just comply with whatever he says.”

“Harry, as your guardian, he is—”

“Wrong,” Harry stated firmly, “he’s wrong, Remus. He’s blinded by hate and childish notions and permitting himself to still think in such a way.”

Remus stiffened at how openly Harry was talking about his best friend. “Harry, what you’ve got to understand here is—”

“I understand plenty,” Harry interrupted him. “I understand that you were a complete coward—and a prefect, no less—when you were all in school together, and stood by and did nothing while bullying went on. I understand that my father and Sirius made Severus’s life a living hell while all of you were students, and all because he was a Slytherin, and you perceived that he was lusting after my mum, which I can assure you completely was never the case!”

“We eventually figured that out, what with his relationship with Regulus—”

“Which you, no doubt, all disapproved of as well, given that you couldn’t allow Severus to ever have a shred of happiness within his life,” Harry ranted, jumping to his feet. “Do you know what his home life was like, Remus? Well, do you?!”

Remus swallowed. “We all have our fair bits of nastiness growing up, Harry—”

“Not Dad!” Harry thundered. “Dad’s parents were _perfect_ , and he was just terrible as he was growing up, because he was a jealous boy, who was constantly used to getting what he wanted in life and, when Mum turned him down initially, he took it out on the world—”

“I was not referring to your father, Harry,” Remus said calmly.

“Oh, no of course not,” Harry said mockingly. “Sirius was given the cold shoulder because he was not sorted into Slytherin, but at least he had somewhere to go—he went to Dad’s!” he yelled, his temper at full-force now. “And then you, who were rejected by your family for something out of your control! I pity what happened to you, Remus, I really do, but that doesn’t mean that you can stand by and let innocent people suffer!”

“Innocent?” Remus spat. “You truly think Severus Snape is innocent?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I know about his past as a Death Eater, as well as the notion that he is spying for the Light. He is on our side, whether you like it or not, and he is Dumbledore’s man through and through. Besides, I don’t think you’re the innocent party here, as you nearly killed him, Remus!” he shouted.

“Sirius told him to go there, and when I am in my werewolf form, I can hardly control my actions completely! I was still young then, Harry, and I did not have the potion to make me somewhat sane...” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “We were all younger then, Harry, and Sirius can hardly be blamed for—”

“I won’t hear of you defending him, or telling me how I should act and feel towards him,” Harry said, speaking through clenched teeth. “I have strong feelings for Severus, and he is my choice. I told Sirius as much yesterday, Remus, that, when all of this is over, or my seventeenth birthday arrives—whichever comes first—that Severus and I are running away together.”

“And what about your duty to slay Riddle?”

“I shall slay him, no matter what it takes,” Harry ground out. “But I will do it with Severus Snape at my side, for he is the man in my life. End of story.”

“You don’t even know if you love him, according to Sirius,” Remus put in.

Harry let out a bitter laugh then. “Love?” he spat. “Who I love or don’t love is hardly any of your business, Remus.”

Remus sighed. “While that is true, you cannot go traipsing around with a man old enough to be your father—”

“I care nothing for the age difference,” Harry told him firmly. “It’s Severus, or no one. I’ve made my choice.”

Remus shook his head. “It will matter to you one day—”

“Are you speaking of me and my relationship, or yourself and yours?” Harry asked, and Remus immediately lifted his head to stare at him. “Tonks needs to confide in someone. She’s come to the Burrow more than once, crying her eyes out, and, when Molly isn’t available, she speaks to Ginny about your refusal to be with her and, once you’re finally with her, your refusal to discuss your future together.”

Remus stiffened. “My relationship is hardly—”

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” Harry snapped. “Doesn’t feel good when someone sticks their nose where it clearly doesn’t belong.”

Remus sighed. “She could not even consider being with...”

“She loves you, Remus,” Harry said, voice filled with exasperation as he threw up his hands into the air. “Can’t you see that?”

“She is Sirius’s cousin—”

“I think Sirius would’ve done something to you by now if he didn’t approve, don’t you?” Harry demanded darkly, still smarting from what Sirius had put him and Severus through.

Remus sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Harry sighed, sinking back into his chair. “If this is about your lycanthropy, Remus, Tonks has made it abundantly clear how much she is capable of handling, based solely upon all the shit that’s been thrown at her throughout her life,” he said softly. “I think she’s capable of making a choice on who she really wants to be with, you know.”

Remus slowly lifted his head. “I won’t be the cause of her ruin.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop playing the martyr for two seconds and listen to me,” he said, his patience slowly but surely running out. “She. Loves. You. What about you? Don’t you love her back, Remus?”

Remus swallowed. “I am too old for her, Harry. Too dark. Too dangerous...”

“And I care nothing for that.”

Harry’s head snapped to the left then, his jaw dropping at the sight of Tonks, who had come out, unnoticed, from the flames. “Um...” He said awkwardly.

Tonks strode forward then, standing in front of Remus. “Answer me this once and for all, Remus John Lupin,” she said, her voice full of untapped fury, and Remus stared up at her, his eyes wide with something not akin to fear. “Do you love me?” she asked him.

“Dora,” Remus said softly, and Harry’s eyebrows raised, for he had never heard anyone address Tonks as such, “you must consider the age difference here—”

“And I told you,” she said, crossing her arms, “that that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Dora,” Remus went on, his tone a pleading one, “please understand me when I say that this, all of it, has been ill-advised. Look at Harry,” he said, and Harry shrank back in his seat as Tonks turned to look at him, “he is with someone older—”

“Yes, it’s Severus,” Tonks snapped, rolling her eyes, and Harry smirked; it wasn’t because she didn’t care, but that she wanted the conversation to go back to her and Remus’s debacle. “But he and Severus are happy!”

“Dora—”

“No, please, just listen,” she begged him, her voice shaking from emotion. “They’re happy, and their age difference is even greater than ours. Hell, they can hardly ever see one another, all because their relationship has been deemed illegal!”

“One could say the very same thing about us!” Remus said, jumping to his feet.

Tonks let out a sound of exasperation, before she turned to look at Harry. “Harry, I know you’re unsure of your feelings for Severus at present, but do you want a future with him?”

“Yes,” Harry said immediately, without even having to think about it.

“You see!” said Tonks, her voice strained as she turned back to Remus. “Harry still wants to be with Severus, even though he’s on the run, and despite their age difference, not to mention their past animosity towards one another, or the fact that he must constantly pose as a Death Eater! He doesn’t care!”

“It’s different,” Remus said quietly. “Severus will ultimately get cleared of all the charges that will ultimately be stacked against him by the Wizengamot, for I am quite positive that Albus took precautions for that, when the day comes. The cases are completely—”

“But I don’t care either, I don’t care!” cried Tonks, lurching forward and grabbing ahold of the cardigan that Remus wore, staring into his eyes, unblinking, her voice still trembling. “I’ve told you a million times...”

“And I’ve told you a million times,” Remus said, almost as if he was rehearsing a speech, while all the while staring at the floor, “that I’m too old for you...too poor...too dangerous...”

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re being ridiculous right now, Remus,” he said, and Remus finally looked up, staring at Harry.

“I am not being ridiculous, Harry,” Remus snapped, almost as if he couldn’t bear to have Tonks so close to him, nor could he bear to have Harry lecturing him like this. “Tonks deserves someone young and whole.”

“She clearly wants to be with you,” Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air again. “Just because you’re not as young as some, doesn’t mean that you need to dwell upon it. Tonks wants to be with you,” he said.

“This is...not the moment to discuss it,” Remus said, looking around the room in a rather pitiful effort to distract himself. “We were discussing Sirius...”

“Fie on Sirius!” Tonks cried out, staring at Remus, and Harry was very tempted to summon his bag and run out of there. “I love you!”

Remus turned then, his eyes widening at Tonks’s declaration. “You... No, Dora, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t...”

“I’ve decided, just as Harry has,” she said, her hands no longer gripping his robes, and making an effort to smooth out the wrinkles she had made upon them. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Remus replied, something akin to hope in his voice.

“So,” Tonks whispered as Harry finally managed to sneak towards the door, which opened for him to leave, “where do we go from here?”

~*~

Since Gryffindor had won the first Quidditch match that term against Hufflepuff, they would be playing against Slytherin for the final game of term. Harry and Hermione walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast together that morning, as Ron and Ginny, plus the rest of the team, had been up an hour earlier to strategize and pull together for a final practice. Now that Ron was the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he was taking his marks more seriously, for, if he floundered at all, he would be benched, and he knew that the team, and Gryffindor House, was counting on him. With Ginny playing as Seeker, Harry knew that the team was in good hands as he sat down to eat his breakfast.

“Think Ron is nervous?” Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione grinned and shook her head; she and Ron had been “making up”, as it were, for the last several weeks since Galentine’s hatching, and things seemed to have improved so much that she was looking forward to spending her Christmas holidays at the Burrow. “No, he’s not nervous,” Hermione assured him. “Now that McLaggen’s not bothering me anymore, and is in detention with Filch until the end of term, that is...” Her brows came together then as she thought it over. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you, Harry?” she asked.

Harry sighed, leaning back slightly upon the bench as he buttered his morning toast. Jam, for some reason or other, seemed to set him off these days, so he was sticking entirely to butter when it came to his toast in the mornings. “I may have,” he admitted.

Hermione blanched, leaning halfway across the table, so Harry immediately summoned her bowl of porridge closer to him, so as she didn’t get her rather attractive jumper ruined. “Harry, what in Merlin’s name did you do?” she hissed.

Harry stuck his toast into his mouth, chewing it methodically, and knew that he had to be diplomatic about the entirety of the situation. “I may have told Dumbledore the night after Slughorn’s supper party,” he whispered.

Hermione sighed, putting her head into her hands. “Merlin, Harry...”

Harry swallowed the remainder his toast, before turning his attention to his eggs; he would need protein, he knew that, for he was always hungrier in the colder weather, but he seemed to be hungry for very interesting things these days. “I don’t see a problem, ‘Mione,” Harry put in as he stabbed at his eggs.

Hermione slowly raised her eyes to his. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” she said, her voice quivering, just like her lower lip.

Harry swallowed a bite of eggs and looked up at Hermione, actually concerned. “Okay, what is this really about?” he asked.

Hermione sighed, her thin shoulders concaving inward as if to protect herself further. “Cormac’s got a lot of friends—he’s quite popular,” she said softly.

“Of course. He’s a seventh-year with good looks,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t mean that he’s unable to take ‘no’ for an answer...”

“That’s just the problem, Harry,” Hermione said, lowering her voice. “He’s telling everyone that _I_ came onto _him_.”

Harry felt his face flush with anger. “Are you serious?”

Hermione nodded, her bushy hair covering her face as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve barely managed to tell Ron that the rumors have no merit, but...”

“Ron loves you,” Harry said quickly. “There’s no way he’d believe them!”

Hermione trembled then as she shook her head. “If only I’d told him about the night in question immediately after the fact,” she whispered.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait. You didn’t...?”

“No,” Hermione said, her eyes meeting his. “I was so ashamed of it! At try-outs, when you and I came to support Ron, he was staring at me the entire time. Did you know that he treated his broom as if it was a phallus, and stared at me the entire time?!”

Harry felt his face contort into a disgusted expression. “No,” he replied. “I’m glad I didn’t see it, personally, but that doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen to you.”

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples with the pads of her index and middle fingers. “I just want all of this to be over, and now you’ve gone...”

“I’ve gone and ensured that he’s been disciplined appropriately, Hermione,” Harry said. “I was just doing it to help you, I swear.”

Hermione nodded, wiping the tears out of her eyes and pulling her bowl of porridge forward. “I-I know, Harry,” she said softly. “I just want this all to end...”

After breakfast, Harry and Hermione summoned their jackets, a hat for Harry, scarves, winter boots, and Hermione’s earmuffs before heading outside towards the pitch. Draco was pumped for the match that day, as Harry knew, although he was keen to see how he would react, as the Seeker for the Slytherin team. As Harry and Hermione walked the grounds to the stands, Harry kept a firm grip upon Hermione, so that the witch wouldn’t stumble in the snow and potentially twist her ankle. They made it up into the stands with the crowds, and Harry gave Hermione a smile as she casted a Warming Charm upon the two of them. As she was now seventeen, there was a lot that she could do that Harry, Ron, Draco, and Ginny couldn’t.

“I know you didn’t mean any harm,” she whispered as they stood along the front row of the stands, waiting for Neville and Luna to join them.

“Thanks,” Harry replied. “I needed to hear that. And I really was just trying to help, although, you have to admit, it’ll be good for McLaggen to get taken down a notch or two...”

Hermione giggled. “Yes, it would,” she agreed.

Neville came through the crowds gathering in the stands a few moments later, an arm wrapped around Luna, who was sporting a rather shocking lion headdress. “Hey, guys,” Neville said, and grinned at Harry and Hermione.

“Hello, Neville,” Harry and Hermione said together.

“Hello, everyone,” Luna said in her lyrical voice, just as Dean and Seamus came up behind Harry and Hermione, with Lavender and Susan on both their respective arms. “It should be a lively game, shouldn’t it?”

“Ron is brilliant, after all,” Lavender said with a kind smile, snuggling closer to Seamus as he pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I just love an excuse to get outside and actually breathe,” Susan said with a smile; she and Dean were not as outward with their feelings as Seamus and Lavender were, but they never missed an opportunity to hold hands.

The teams were announced shortly thereafter, with each individual player group getting a moment of attention, with the cheers for Ron and Ginny being the loudest. Madam Hooch stood below with the box that contained the balls, and released the Quaffle with a Summoning Charm, thus permitting the game to begin. Snow flurries were flying all around, so Harry noticed that all the players from both teams were utilizing the goggles upon their uniforms, so as to see their appropriate balls and ensure as many points per team as possible.

Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Susan, and Lavender all cheered for the Weasley family, which could have been for either Ron or Ginny, really. The Weasleys—Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny—were all excellent players in their own right, and were definitely forces to be reckoned with on the pitch. As each player from every team zoomed through the air, with the exception of Ginny and Draco, it was clear that they all had a clear goal in place, literally, and wanted to, above all things, play hard and fair.

After Gryffindor had scored a total of two hundred points and Slytherin two hundred and thirty, it was time, in Madam Hooch’s view, to release the Snitch. The tiny golden ball with wings was thrown into the ring, and Ginny caught sight of it immediately, flying after it as fast as she could with her cat-like reflexes. Draco, meanwhile, spotted it just after Ginny had, and dove downwards in an attempt to cut Ginny off, but was unsuccessful. Ginny moved back and forth in mid-air, attempting to distract Draco—quite evidently—with something far more appealing, in his eyes, than winning the match.

Ginny leaned forward upon her broom, Harry and Hermione never taking their eyes off of her progress, and suddenly kicked her performance into high-gear. She surged forward, one hand gripping the handle, while the other was extended into the snowy air, her fingertips nearly able to brush at the golden ball. Finally, after she gave another inch, her hand closed around the ball and she gripped it as tightly as she could, while Madam Hooch suddenly flew into the air and blew the whistle.

“Gryffindor wins with three hundred and fifty points!” she called out.

Ginny landed flawlessly then, and Ron immediately caught her up into his arms, holding her aloft with all the other Quidditch players.

“That’s my sister!” he screamed above the shouts of victory from the various students in the Gryffindor stands.

Ginny was finally able to let herself down, thanking the team and handing the Snitch back to Madam Hooch, before she hurried to the other side of the stands, where Draco was waiting. She gave him a tentative smile, and let out a shrill squeal then as Draco pulled her into his arms, snogging her for all to see. If there was any doubt beforehand that the former Malfoy heir was dating the only daughter of the Weasley family, those doubts had been officially quashed by any and all the spectators of the final Hogwarts Quidditch match of 1996.

~*~

Harry tugged at his bottle green dress robes which Molly had considerately bought him for the Yule Ball two years before, which Hermione had placed a Sizing Charm upon so as they would fit him better. He was significantly broader and in better health than he had been at the age of fourteen, given that he was permitted regular meals year-round, and was exercising a fairly decent amount for a sixteen-year-old young man. He had attempted to put a charm upon his hair, and had even used Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion as well, but nothing seemed to work, so he flattened it down as best he could before he laced his shoes and wandered downstairs.

That evening, he, Hermione, and Ginny had been invited to Slughorn’s official Slug Club Christmas party. Hermione and Ginny were bringing along Ron and Draco as their dates respectively, and Neville, who had also been invited, was, naturally, bringing Luna. Not wanting to suffer through another night of stilted conversation, or fumbled dancing, with someone like Parvati Patil, Harry had opted to go to the celebrations alone. As a show of good faith, Ron and Hermione had agreed to remain with him for the night, as had Draco and Ginny, but Harry had told the other couple to have some fun. Ginny mentioned that she wanted to reassure Draco as much as possible about Slytherin’s Quidditch loss before they went to the Burrow the following afternoon, where Molly did not permit them alone in her bedroom together, as Ginny always bunked with Hermione.

Harry joined his friends in the common room, and grinned at the sight before him. Ron was dressed in a pair of new dress robes, which he had surprised him with as an early Christmas present, and were an appealing gray color, which Hermione seemed to love. Hermione, meanwhile, was wearing a knee-length pink dress without sleeves, and looked quite becoming in her pink heels. Ginny, who stood with Draco—adorned in traditional black and white dress robes—was radiant in a new green dress that went past her knees, and had been an early Christmas gift from Draco. As for Neville, he wore red and gold dress robes, while Luna was splendid in a shimmering pink gown with an abundance of ruffles, her blonde hair reminding Harry of an ancient Greek painting.

“Oh, Harry, the Sizing Charm worked!” Hermione squealed from beneath Ron’s arm. “They still match your eyes...”

“Blimey, Hermione, does eye color change?” Ron asked her.

“It’s entirely possible for it to do so,” Luna said softly.

“Oh, bloody hell, here we go,” Ron whispered, and was suddenly silenced by both Hermione and Ginny elbowing him in the ribs.

“It’s possible if Luna says it is,” Neville said quietly.

“Can you tell us how it’s possible, Luna?” Ginny asked.

“Certainly,” Luna replied with a nod. “Some people claim that their eye color changes with the weather or the season, or parts of certain eye colors are emphasized by what colors they themselves are wearing at any given time,” she said knowledgeably.

“My mum...” Draco cleared his throat. “ _Narcissa_ claimed the same thing,” Draco said, and Ginny immediately nuzzled closer to him, not wanting his holidays ruined by dwelling on the past, and people that couldn’t protect him.

“Right,” Harry said, knowing that Slughorn probably wouldn’t like it if they were late to the festivities. “We should get going, then.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said quickly, and the three couples, plus Harry, all made it out of the portrait hole forthwith. Hermione stayed by Ron’s side, as Ginny did with Draco and Neville with Luna, while Harry brought up the rear until they arrived at Slughorn’s classroom. “You go first, Harry,” Hermione said gently, pushing him forward.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Go on, mate,” Ron said, nodding at him encouragingly. “You’re his favorite out of all of us, after all,” he said, smiling.

Harry rolled his eyes before turning around and knocking on the door, fixing a smile to his face as Slughorn opened it. “Good evening, sir.”

“Ah, Harry, my boy,” Slughorn said, shaking his hand. “Come in, come in. Good evening, Miss Granger, Rupert,” he said to Ron, and Harry smirked, while Ginny giggled, and Hermione smacked her forehead with her hand. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy, escorting Miss Weasley this evening, very good, very good. Your display after the Quidditch match was simply inspired!” he went on with a twitter. “Ah, I see here that we have Mr. Longbottom... And who might you be, young lady?” he asked.

“Luna Lovegood, sir,” Luna replied, accepting Slughorn’s handshake. “My father is the editor and chief of _The Quibbler_...”

“Ah!” said Slughorn, who was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in a sudden moment of excitement. “Xenophilius,” he said fondly. “I simply _must_ send him an owl, and ask him if we could possibly have tea over the holidays... And then there was your dear mother, Pandora Everglade, was most gifted in potions,” he said, and Luna gave him a small smile. “I was so sorry to hear of her passing, my dear. But, if I recall correctly, you yourself brewed a very successful Wit-Sharpening Potion upon your first day in my class,” he went on, obviously delighted to formally meet Luna at last.

“Thank you, sir,” Luna said softly. “And yes, you’re correct. You also awarded twenty points to Ravenclaw for my work, for which I was very thankful,” she went on.

As Luna and Neville continued their discussion with Slughorn, Ginny and Draco promptly made to excuse themselves. There were some gauze-like curtains around the various areas of the room, and the pair made for one rather quickly, and proceeded to snog from behind it. Ron looked very uncomfortable with this, but Hermione reminded him to enjoy the party, while Harry summoned them each a glass of wine from the provided table. Harry sipped at the wine, a lump forming in his stomach as McLaggen approached them.

“Hermione,” he said, blocking her from his view, “let’s go watch the snow falling from that window over there, eh?”

“What?” Hermione asked.

“What are you on about, Harry?” Ron asked, his voice riddled with confusion as he continued sipping at his wine. “Why would we want to go and look at snow?”

“Because snow is lovely?” Harry asked, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he wanted to get Hermione away from McLaggen.

“Well, sure, Harry, but we’re going to the Burrow tomorrow, and they’re will be plenty of snow there to look at,” Ron said.

Harry sighed, and moved to speak again, although he suddenly grew stiff as he felt a sizeable hand upon his shoulder. Upon whipping around, he glared at the arm it was connected to, which was clearly McLaggen. “Don’t touch me,” he ordered, speaking through his teeth.

McLaggen chuckled, and Harry heard Hermione gasp from behind him. “I’m not here to speak with you, Potter,” the seventh-year Gryffindor with the face of Adonis sneered, before knocking Harry away and walking towards Hermione. “Hello, minx,” he said.

Hermione flushed, and moved to step backwards, but McLaggen stepped towards her, and her nose immediately wrinkled in disgust. “You’re drunk,” she accused.

“Oi, McLaggen, stay away from my girlfriend!” Ron ordered, narrowing his eyes at him, and attempting to move between them.

“This doesn’t concern you, Weasley,” McLaggen said, and attempted to sidestep Ron. “All I want is to have a little discussion with Granger...”

“You’re going to stay away from her,” Harry ordered.

McLaggen turned around then, and narrowed his eyes at Harry. “I took you for a poof, Potter, but, perhaps, I am mistaken,” he said, and Harry flushed red, enraged. “Now, I’m sensing that there’s something much more perverse going on here...”

“What?!” Ron demanded. “What?!”

“He’s insinuating,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “that you, Hermione, and I are involved in something much deeper than friendship.”

“Hey!” Ron yelled, sidling up to McLaggen and glaring daggers at him. “I won’t have you saying anything like that about my girlfriend, or my best mate!”

McLaggen chuckled darkly. “Poofy Potter probably wouldn’t want sloppy seconds from Wearisome Weasley, anyhow,” he said, and Harry felt his hands forming into fists as McLaggen looked at Hermione, suddenly leering closer. “I wouldn’t object to sampling anything you have to give me, Granger,” he declared, before leaning forward and grabbing ahold of Hermione’s breast, and she shrieked, stumbling backwards and hitting the wall behind her.

“Oi!” Ron shouted, suddenly drawing himself up to his full height. He manhandled McLaggen so that he was facing away from Hermione, whereupon he balled his hand into a fist and clobbered McLaggen so hard that he went flying, and fell, unconscious, to the ground.

“Ron!” Hermione shouted through her tears, and rushed forward, cradling Ron’s hand gently in hers. “Are you all right?” she whispered to him.

He nodded wincing slightly as her fingertips traced over his skin, which had already begun to bruise. “Yeah,” he managed to get out.

“You’d better let Madam Pomfrey have a look at that,” Harry said, speaking for the first time since defending Hermione against McLaggen’s unsavory thoughts.

“Wallenby!” cried Slughorn, making his way over towards the fray, resembling a puffed-up cardinal, due to the swishing of his crimson and white robes. “What is the meaning of this atrocious behavior?!”

“Sir,” Ron began, but was immediately cut off.

“Horace, I’ll handle this,” said Professor McGonagall, emerging from the shadows, clad in some green tartan dress robes, likely to celebrate the holiday season. “Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter, come with me,” she said, before turning to the bewildered potions professor. “Send your Patronus to Poppy in the hospital wing, before you levitate Mr. McLaggen there,” she went on, before she swept from the room, and down the hall.

Not needing telling twice, Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately moved to follow their Head of House from the festivities and down the corridor. The three merely looked at one another as they followed Professor McGonagall’s swift strides, not bothering to speak. It was as if a Silencing Charm had been placed upon the three of them, not that they were even considering talking in that moment, and, as they walked, Harry felt trepidation running rampant through them as if a herd of hippogriffs had suddenly stampeded him personally.

Professor McGonagall, naturally, arrived at the door of her classroom first, which she promptly spelled open, before turning to look at the trio. “In,” she ordered, and the three of them scurried across the threshold, permitting the professor to go first. She spelled the door closed so that it slammed behind them, and marched up to the front of her classroom, before she turned to face them with her green stare. “Why is it that when there’s something going on at this school that it is _always_ you three?” she asked.

Ron swallowed. “To be honest, professor, I’ve been asking myself that same question for five years,” he said quietly.

Professor McGonagall sighed, rolling her shoulders before staring down at them. “I want to impress upon you something that you should have known prior to attending Hogwarts, and that is this: Violence is no way to behave,” she said firmly.

“He wasn’t being violent!” Hermione cried out.

“Silence, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said firmly. “I must admit, it had been quite some time since I lived in the Muggle world, but I do believe that non-violence is something preached there as well. My father, Merlin rest his soul, was a Presbyterian minister, and he staunchly advocated for non-violent ways to solve problems. It is something I carry with me each and every day of my life.”

“How can you say that?” Harry demanded of her. “You yourself are a part of the protection of the Wizarding World. No matter what your status or viewpoints, be it Light or Dark, you must engage in violence in the form of magic, now and again.”

“But that is different,” the transfiguration professor said quickly, “as you know very well, Mr. Potter, for you just stated the reasons for it being so.”

Harry blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“You just stated that I myself use violence, and I have, many a time, Mr. Potter. However, I only do so to preserve our way of life, my putting my life on the line to protect others. I do not brawl for no reason other than people invading my girlfriend’s personal space, which was clearly done in Mr. Weasley’s standpoint of childishness and jealousy.”

“You’re entirely wrong, professor,” Hermione said, her voice so firm that the Head of Gryffindor House promptly went silent. “If you believe the situation as you’ve just deduced it to Harry, then you obviously didn’t read it correctly.”

“I don’t need a seventeen-year-old girl telling me what I did and didn’t see, Miss Granger,” came Professor McGonagall’s snappish reply, for she was obviously close to losing her temper.

“How about two sixteen-year-old boys?” Harry asked.

“Three,” said a voice from behind them, as Draco and Ginny entered the classroom. “Three sixteen-year-old boys, professor,” Draco said, as Ginny squeezed his hand before pulling away from him, and promptly rushing forward, and embracing Hermione for a moment before she turned to face her Head of House.

“Add a fifteen-year-old girl into the mix, then,” she said stoutly.

“I think two of those shall suffice,” came the lyrical voice of Luna Lovegood, who stepped into the classroom, holding Neville’s arm.

“And make that four sixteen-year-old boys,” Neville said, stepping forward, no ounce of fear in his voice as he faced the woman.

“It wasn’t a fit of childishness of jealousy, professor,” Ron said firmly, obviously relieved to be backed up by his sister, as well as his close friends.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “I see.”

“Bring down Headmaster Dumbledore’s pensieve if you have to,” Harry told her, not willing to back down, not from this.

“Or you could just listen to us, while we tell you the truth of what happened to me tonight, and what has been happening to me, since the school year began,” Hermione said softly. “Or before, for I ran into Cormac McLaggen during the summer in Diagon Alley, at Fred and George’s joke shop, where he leeringly stared at me, whilst Ginny and I were looking over their stock of love potions,” she said quietly.

Professor McGonagall went white. “You mean to tell me that you were the young woman that Mr. McLaggen was acting inappropriately towards, during Professor Slughorn’s supper party, a few weeks previous?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hermione replied.

Harry stepped forward. “Wait a moment. Dumbledore identified Hermione as the young woman that McLaggen was harassing, when he sent Fawkes to you to deliver the message...”

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “Bird speak is not my first language, Mr. Potter. All I got was that Mr. McLaggen had harassed a young woman sexually, and I so acquiesced the detention that the headmaster assigned to him forthwith.”

Harry sighed. “I suppose that makes sense,” he admitted.

“Well, tell me what happened, then,” Professor McGonagall said softly.

Hermione leaned into Ron, still holding Ginny’s hand. “This evening, while attending Professor Slughorn’s Christmas do, Ron and I had promised Harry to remain beside him, as he was going solo tonight,” she began. “We were standing there, and we each were sipping at a glass of the provided wine.”

“Yes, go on,” said the Head of Gryffindor.

“Well, Harry noticed McLaggen first,” Hermione said, and Harry nodded affirmatively. “He tried to steer us away from him, but Ron and I, not seeing him, didn’t understand until it was far too late to do anything.”

“What happened next?”

“McLaggen put his hand on me, and got rude when I told him not to touch me,” Harry said plainly, still sick that he had.

“As is your right,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Anyhow,” Hermione went on, “I accused him of being drunk when he got too close, and Ron attempted to diffuse the situation, and Harry, by attempting to get him to leave me alone. Suffice it to say, it didn’t work.”

“Yes, Miss Granger. Please continue.”

“He called Harry something rude,” Ron went on.

“What word was used, Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry swallowed. “He called me a ‘poof’,” he replied.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Your sexual preferences are your own business, Mr. Potter, and the fact remains that that form of bullying is not acceptable.” She quickly turned back to Hermione, and gave her a nod. “Please go on, Miss Granger.”

“He insinuated that Harry, Ron, and I were together,” she whispered, obviously sickened by that fact, for she flushed deeply. “He made further rude remarks about it, whereupon he said that he would gladly take anything I offered him and then he...and then he...”

“It is all right, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall assured her. “You are safe here. No one will do anything untoward to you.”

Hermione laughed bitterly, knowing very well that she should have gotten that assurance regardless of the situation, but nevertheless pressed on. “He touched me,” she whispered. “He grabbed my breast, and he hurt me.”

Professor McGonagall went pale. “Did he?”

“The sick git did,” Ron growled.

“And that is why you punched Mr. McLaggen, wasn’t it, Mr. Weasley?” she asked, as she turned to regard Ron.

Ron nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Very well, then,” she said, nodding her head. She readily called out for her Patronus, and the sleek and nimble cat arrived in the classroom. “Please inform Professor Dumbledore that I will be coming to see him in his office right away,” she said, and the cat immediately let out a meow in assurance before darting from the classroom.

“Do you need me to go with you, professor?” asked Hermione.

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Anyone who wants to come, may come,” she said, and walked out of her classroom, with everyone one step behind her.

~*~

It was all over school the following day that Cormac McLaggen had been suspended for the rest of the year, and had been forced to take his NEWTs by owl post. The only reason why he had been able to still take his final examinations was because of the high standing of his family, and his willingness to agree to go quietly. It also hadn’t hurt that he had admitted to his crimes committed against Hermione, and his own parents had come to collect him, and he was not permitted to take the train home with his fellow students.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny all had breakfast in the Great Hall together, but refused to comment to anyone about their part in the evening before. Neville and Luna as well kept quiet about it, and Harry found that he was pleased not to be the only one beneath the limelight, although the reasons behind it sickened him beyond belief. As they finished their breakfast, they all trooped upstairs to finish packing, before catching the train to Kings Cross Station, where Molly would be collecting them.

Once packing was completed, their trunks were collected by the house-elves, who put them onto the platform at Hogsmeade Station, where the train employees would load them onto the train accordingly. The five of them quickly changed into Muggle attire after breakfast, and were soon making their way along the Hogwarts grounds, covered in heavy amount of snow, and towards the station attached to the wizarding village. They made small talk as they walked, underneath Warming Charms that Hermione had provided for all of them, and soon had arrived at the platform, and were permitted entry onto the train.

“This one’s empty,” Hermione remarked, and slid into the compartment, Ron just behind her, followed by Harry, and then Draco and Ginny.

“Excited about Christmas, mate?” Ron asked, sitting beside Hermione and winding his arm to rest around her shoulders.

Harry sighed, leaning back against the seat, with Ginny on one side, and the window on the other. “I suppose,” he said quietly.

“Good thing you don’t have to deal with that tosser anymore,” Ginny said, crossing her arms and leaning into Draco.

“He was bang out of order,” Draco put in, weaving his fingers into Ginny’s red hair. “I’m just glad that he’s out of there before he does it again.”

“Or anything worse,” Harry muttered.

Hermione went pale then, and gave a start then as the train whistle went off, and began chugging out of the station. “You... You don’t think...” She shook her head then. “Of course he has. I’m such an idiot,” she muttered.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Ron asked.

Hermione turned to look at him then, her eyes filled with fear. “He seemed to know exactly what he was doing,” she whispered.

Harry blinked. “What do you mean?”

“In his...attacks,” she said softly.

“Exactly what he was...? Oh, Merlin,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“‘Mione, what are you talking about?” Ron pressed.

“It’s obvious,” Ginny whispered, her eyes briefly looking at her brother, before coming to set upon Hermione.

“McLaggen’s obviously done this before,” Hermione said, her brown eyes filling with tears, as the train began its snow-covered journey from Edinburgh to London.


	15. Fall For You

It had caused quite an uproar in Devon, once Molly Weasley had collected the fivesome from Kings Cross and brought them to the Burrow, that she revealed that she and Arthur had decreed that Ron and Hermione would be bunking together, and that Draco and Ginny would be doing the same. Ron was naturally pleased to have his girlfriend by his side throughout the holidays, but was vehemently against Ginny and Draco sharing a room. Molly calmly informed her son that she was well-aware of Ginny and Draco’s sleeping habits on the weekends back at Hogwarts, and did not have a problem with it.

This silenced Ron for good on the matter.

Harry also learned from Molly that Charlie would be remaining in Romania during the holidays and so his room was available for Harry to sleep in. Fred and George would be returning to the Burrow for the holiday, so naturally their bedroom was not available, and Bill’s room needed to remain open as well, for he would be bringing Fleur. Harry acquiesced immediately to Molly’s plans, and promptly took his truck upstairs to Charlie’s room, down the hall from Ron’s, and was pleased at the prospect of having a room to himself throughout the holiday.

The first three days at the Burrow were filled with the senior Weasleys asking the five students still attending Hogwarts about their classes, Quidditch, and the rather nasty ending to their term when it came to Hermione’s attack at McLaggen’s hands. Molly said that the entire McLaggen family had always been high and mighty pompous rubbish, and that their son, therefore, given his actions towards Hermione, was no better.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Molly said softly to Hermione on their fourth night there—which just so happened to be Christmas Eve, “that I believed one word that evil viper wrote about you during your fourth-year.”

“Rita Skeeter, you mean?” Hermione asked.

Molly nodded, putting together Charlie’s jumper, which she was due to send through the Floo the following morning; Harry detected the telltale dragon stitched upon its front. She had worked tirelessly on cooking massive meals that night, which was a traditional roast, and preparing tomorrow’s dinner, which was to be a goose, and had managed to have plenty of time to stitch up all the various jumpers and things she wanted to provide for the family, plus Harry, Hermione, and Draco.

“Vile woman,” Fred agreed, from where he was sitting in a chair beside the fire, Alicia Spinnet in his arms.

“Bottle blonde if I ever saw one,” George said with a nod, in the chair opposite Fred, and his steady girlfriend, Angelina Johnson, cuddled up beside him, pressed a rather sweet and innocent kiss onto his cheek.

“She was running like mad after the third task,” Bill said solemnly, Fleur practically on his lap, upon one of the couches in the room.

“All she wanted was to get pictures of poor Cedric Diggory,” Fleur said quietly, turning her head to rest upon Bill’s shoulder.

“She likes making up stories,” Ron said, his tone filled with disgust, from where he sat, arms wrapped around Hermione, beside Molly.

“I, of course, seemed to be the star of the show,” Harry muttered, leaning against the couch in front of Ron and Hermione, and shook his head. “Not that I wanted any of it, of course...”

“Of course not,” Ginny replied, her tone an encouraging one; she was sitting draped across Draco’s lap, beside Bill and Fleur, on the couch across the room.

“She was constantly asking anyone who was spotted seen talking with Harry for quotes,” Draco put in, shuddering in revulsion. “I’ll admit, I said some less-than-savory things. However, I’m just pleased that they never made it to print...”

“Nasty woman,” Arthur said, from where he sat beside Molly. “Fudge could never tolerate her running about the ministry in those tap-tapping shoes of hers, and that’s saying something, considering all the other things that man tolerated.”

“High-heels, Arthur,” Hermione put in gently. “Lots of Muggle women like them, despite the fact that they hurt your feet.”

“Not if you have good arches,” Fleur said softly, and Harry smirked, knowing that his fellow Triwizard Champion had _very_ good arches, considering that he’d seen her feet clearly during the second task of the tournament.

“Anyhow,” Molly said, her tone prim as she added some more green thread to her stitching of Charlie’s jumper, “it was very wrong of me to come out against you, Hermione, dear.”

Hermione sighed, leaning into Ron’s embrace. “Anyone could have believed her words, Molly,” she said quietly. “After all, she writes for _The Daily Prophet_...”

“That rag is no excuse for a paper,” Arthur said firmly. “We’re a _Quibbler_ family now, given how close the Lovegood’s live.”

Harry’s ears pricked up at that. “They live close?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, Harry dear,” Molly said, never taking her eyes from the jumper. “They live just over the hill, as a matter of fact. Xenophilius and Luna.”

“Think we can see Luna over the holidays, Mum?” Ron asked.

“I’ll send Xenophilius a note in the Christmas owl tomorrow,” Arthur replied, answering for his wife, and Molly nodded. “If she’s willing and available, you certainly can.”

“We could even Floo Neville, asking him to join us,” Ginny put in.

“Naturally,” Molly said with a nod. “It would do him good to see his girlfriend. I love how much that young man has come out of his shell since the Department of Mysteries,” she said, smiling to herself. “He would do Frank and Alice proud.”

Harry trudged upstairs close to midnight, wanting to get a somewhat decent nights’ sleep, given that Ron would likely be jumping on his bed at eight in the morning, wanting to open their Christmas gifts. Harry chuckled at that, knowing how predictable Ron was after all those years, and especially at the early Christmas gift that Hermione had given Draco and Ginny, by putting a Silencing Charm on Ginny’s bedroom, in case they wanted to celebrate early. Harry heard Hermione’s whispered words of a Silencing Charm from down the corridor, so he knew very well that his two best friends had something in mind to celebrate as well.

As Harry pulled off his socks, trousers, jumper, and shirt, he could vaguely hear the twins going upstairs, with Fred and Alicia going to sleep in the attic—which the ghoul being regulated into some Extended Wizard Space somewhere else—and George and Angelina going into the twins’ bedroom for the night. Bill and Fleur said goodnight, as Harry heard, a few minutes later, and went into Bill’s bedroom, while Harry took care of the light in Charlie’s bedroom and got into his borrowed bed.

It was a vast improvement from the camp bed he was regulated to, whenever he stayed in Ron’s bedroom, and wondered what the future would bring in his visits to the Burrow. Now that Ron and Hermione were a couple and permitted to sleep in the same bed, plus Draco and Ginny, he thought that he would be sent off to another bedroom whilst being there. However, he hoped that he would never have to sleep in Charlie’s room when Charlie was there, given their last interaction, which made his heart lurch uncomfortably for disloyalty purposes.

The full moon was happening, as Harry could just see it from the slightly parted green curtains of Charlie’s bedroom. The sliver of white light that the orb made came out and dripped onto the wooden floor, and Harry felt relieved to be in the quietness of the country of the Burrow. He knew that Grimmauld Place would likely be torn apart in mayhem, what with Remus staying there for the first few days of the holiday, due to his transformation. Tonks, meanwhile, was staying there, too, in the wake of her writing to Ginny that her Patronus had changed from that of a jack rabbit and into a wolf, thus confirming her love for Remus on a magical level.

Harry didn’t know what the future held for either of them, but wanted it to be good, for he could plainly see how much they loved one another. In the brief discussions he’d had with Sirius about their relationship, the man had clearly seemed to approve of it. As such, the only thing that remained was Remus’s inability to commit fully, due to his fear that he could potentially hurt Tonks before, during, or after his transformation. It also had to do with the fact that, according to Hermione, any children born to them could have lycanthropy as well.

When he considered such a thing from this viewpoint, Harry could see why Remus was so scared to fully commit to Tonks. Naturally, Tonks was old enough to make her own choices when it came to who she was romantically involved with, and Remus likely understood that. However, it was a debilitating disease, and he likely didn’t want to have an innocent child afflicted with such a life-altering conundrum.

With these thoughts swimming in his mind, Harry finally felt his eyes growing heavy and, with one final look at the moon, drifted off to sleep.

~*~

Harry awoke on Christmas morning to Ron jumping up and down in an enthusiastic manner upon his borrowed bed, and Hermione rushing in, promising to deliver a Stinging Hex to her boyfriend if he didn’t stop the behavior. Reluctantly, Ron hopped down from the bed and appeased Hermione with a kiss, before telling Harry to hurry up and get downstairs for the gift opening session. Rolling his eyes, Harry rummaged around through his trunk and got out his dressing gown and slippers, before putting them on and heading downstairs.

Due to the fact that Hedwig now had a family, he and Draco had decided to leave both Hedwig and Alexander, as well as their chick, Galentine, at Hogwarts in the owlery for the holidays. It was decided to take the little family back to Grimmauld Place once summer came, as Harry was quite convinced that his tiff with Sirius would be over by then. He had already made tentative plans to return to Grimmauld for the Easter holidays, and hoped that the man would be as welcoming to him as he’d been in the past.

Once Harry stepped into the living room, he was bombarded on all sides by hugs; first Hermione, then Ron, Ginny, Molly, Alicia, Angelina, and Fleur all came at a rush and embraced him. Then Arthur and Bill shook Harry’s hand, and then he was clapped on the back by Fred and George, plus Draco. He was then guided to the couch to sit with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco, while the rest of the family was scattered about the living room in their own dressing gowns, pajamas, and slippers, all in varying states of excitement. Harry watched as Molly sat in the chair proudly by the fire, as if she was the queen holding court, while Arthur knelt beside the tree, and proceeded to hand out gifts.

“Ah, Fred and George,” Arthur said, holding up a pair of gifts, which were lumpy and medium-sized, leading Harry to believe that they were Weasley jumpers. Arthur efficiently banished the gifts, and Fred and George waited. “Alicia and Angelina,” Arthur went on, holding up two further lumpy gifts, and banished those to the girls as well. He then gathered up Bill and Fleur’s gifts, then Ron and Hermione’s, Draco and Ginny’s, and then Harry’s.

They were all instructed to begin with the jumpers or other articles of clothing, while Arthur watched his family proudly from the tree. Bill’s jumper was a pale blue with a wand stitched in its center, a shimmering light coming forth from the tip, likely casting a spell, as a symbol for his position at Gringotts as curse-breaker. Fleur, meanwhile, had received a furred jumper from Molly in an attractive white, to show off her Veela coloring, and an elegant _F_ in the center, curled around a fleur-de-lis. Fleur’s eyes filled at the beauty of the article of clothing and got to her feet, promptly going towards Molly and giving her a tentative kiss on the cheek, thanking her profusely for the gift.

Fred and George tore into their gifts next, with Fred’s jumper being a cobalt blue, with an _F_ in the center, and George’s being Persian blue, with a _G_ front and center. Alicia tore into her paper efficiently, and gazed wonderingly at the scarlet jumper with faux fur that Molly had made for her, with an elegant golden _A_ in the middle. Angelina went next, her own sweater the same style as Alicia’s, with the faux fur, although hers was an attractive shade of violet.

Ron eagerly tore at his wrappings with gusto, admiringly running his hands along the silvery color, which could actually be described as pewter, with brown furred etching. Hermione went next, smiling down at the pale pink color that was reminiscent of a ballet slipper, and it too had faux fur upon it, around the bell-like sleeves and wrapped around the outer portion of the hood that came with it.

From further down the couch, Ginny let out a delighted squeal at her taffy-colored sweater, which exactly matched Arnold, her Pygmy Puff, who was currently resting upon her shoulder, and also adorned with a curled _G_. It was with great amusement on Ginny’s end as the little puff darted forward, burrowing into the faux fur of his mistress’s sweater, and Ginny giggled, clapping her hands. Draco, meanwhile, was tearing into his own gift and smirking from beside Ginny at her continued squeals at Arnold’s antics, and let out a small gasp at the pine-colored jumper he held in his hands, the silvery _D_ in the middle bringing tears to his eyes.

“Is everything all right, Draco?” Molly asked, leaning forward.

Draco nodded wordlessly, tears flowing down his face.

“Dear, don’t you like it?” Molly wanted to know.

Draco dropped the sweater and got to his feet, and Molly immediately got to hers as well, and Draco ran into the arms of Molly Weasley, sobbing into her shoulder. “I... I...”

“It’s all right, dear,” Molly soothed him, holding him close.

Draco pulled back slightly then, as Molly painstakingly dried his tears. “My own mother was never like this,” he blubbered.

“There, now,” Molly said consolingly. “It’s all right.”

“You’ve been more of a mother to me in the last near year than she has over the duration of my entire life,” Draco went on. “And Ginny said that only family members get a jumper, so I suppose that that would make me...”

“Of course you’re family, Draco,” Arthur said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“From the moment our daughter’s heart became yours,” Molly said to Draco, kissing his forehead and looking past Draco to Ginny. “We can see how good you are together, plus how much you’ve had to sacrifice just to be with her.”

“You’re more than worthy of our daughter, Draco Malfoy,” Arthur declared. “And we’ve never seen her so happy.”

Draco wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded and, taking the hint, Molly turned him loose, watching as he ventured back towards the couch and sat with Ginny, who took his hand. “Thank you,” he said again, sniffling for another moment or two, before he turned to look over at Harry, who had been silently watching the scene. “All right, there, Scarhead,” Draco joked, a grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see what you got, then.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt your moment, ferret,” Harry joked, sharing a laugh with Draco before he turned to his own gift. As expected, it was indeed a Weasley jumper, knitted in an attractive emerald hue to match his eyes, with a golden _H_ in the center. “Thank you, Molly,” he said, and flashed her a grin.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Molly said, smiling back.

“And it’s not over yet,” Bill declared, standing up from the couch, before he knelt before it and took Fleur by the hand, causing Molly to turn white. “Fleur Apolline Delacour,” he said, as Fleur’s ice-blue eyes immediately filled with tears, “from the moment I saw you during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, never did I believe that anyone as beautiful, kind, considerate, passionate, strong-willed, or determined would ever think to look at me. However, from that day to this, you have continued to surprise me. Life is so full of adventures and surprises, Fleur, and I no longer wish to live another day without you by my side forever. So, Fleur,” he went on, and took a black velvet box from his pocket and opened it, a lovely diamond ring lying inside, which caused Fleur to gasp aloud, “will you marry me?”

Fleur let out a shriek of delight, while Molly let out one of dismay, but was held tightly by Arthur as Fleur yanked Bill upwards, snogging him intimately before most of his family. “Yes, my William!” she cried out, sobbing, and delicately held out her slim hand towards him. “Yes, I will marry you!”

Bill slipped the ring onto Fleur’s finger carefully, before he brought the both of them to their feet and kissed her again. Turning, he was suddenly surrounded by Fred and George, plus Harry and Draco, who were clapping him on the back, offering him the sincerest of congratulations. It was a surprise for Fleur when Alicia, Angelina, Ginny, and Hermione huddled around her, telling her that she would make an exemplary member of the Weasley family, and all were clamoring to see her ring.

At Arthur’s urging, Molly finally stepped forward, and gave a stilted congratulations to the couple, while Arthur’s sounded more genuine. Molly then made an excuse about having to throw together something for breakfast, as well as lunch, before putting the goose into the oven for dinner that night, and slipped off to the kitchen. Arthur charismatically clapped Bill on the shoulder, and Harry got the distinct impression that Bill had tipped off the Weasley patriarch, so that he could potentially hold Molly at bay in case she attempted to spoil things.

Harry stood back a little from the crowd of Weasley well-wishers, and made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom once he knew that they wouldn’t be following. What with Molly’s decision to see to their meals, he figured that the gift unwrapping was postponed for the time being, not that he minded. As he got into his borrowed bedroom and stood by the window, watching the snow gather upon the ground.

The snow was never as thicker anywhere than it was at Hogwarts.

And as Harry stood there, in Charlie Weasley’s bedroom, mulling over the events that had taken place in the Weasley family’s living room just moments prior, he had come to a revelation. It had come so unexpectedly, and yet he had known about it for a while, for it almost seemed like a natural conclusion to all that had happened, all from the very beginning. And although it had come naturally and had been a natural and logical conclusion, it had still hit him like a rogue Bludger, and he couldn’t quite decide when this would have hit him, had the events of that day not transpired the way they had ultimately done.

“Harry!” called Hermione from below. “Molly wants ours and Ginny’s help in the kitchen! Can you come back down?”

“Yeah!” Harry called back. “I’ll be right there, ‘Mione!”

As he pushed himself away from the window and did his best to gather his thoughts, he knew that this conclusion was one thing, and one thing only.

He was in love with Severus Snape.

~*~

It was a quizzical thing, when Harry woke up on the final day of the year, to an owl tapping upon his window. Bill and Fleur had already returned to their flat near Gringotts, while the twins had also returned to their Diagon Alley flat above the joke shop. Molly and Arthur had taken a last-minute trip to Romania to visit Charlie, while Ron and Hermione had traveled to the Granger residence in the Muggle world, while Draco had surprised Ginny with a Portkey to France, which would ultimately return them to Hogwarts just in time for second-term.

This left Harry quite alone at the Burrow, and, as he shoved the duvet out of the way and crossed to the window, he immediately thought that it was yet another owl from Sirius, begging him to come to Grimmauld Place for the remainder of his holiday. Shaking his head, Harry pushed open the window and let the owl in, who immediately shook the snow off from its feathers. Harry offered it an owl treat from its trunk, which it accepted with a charismatic hoot, before handing over the letter and flying away. Perplexed that the owl wouldn’t want a reply, Harry immediately opened up the letter, heart pounding when he took in the handwriting.

_Harry—_

_I was able to get my hands on a Hogwarts owl, as it is the holidays, and Dumbledore has made me aware of all the secret passageways in and around the castle. I do hope your Christmas holidays are going well, and I miss you terribly._

They had, for the most part, gone well, although it was to Harry’s great annoyance that the goose had had him on the toilet for so long afterwards.

_Dumbledore has made me aware that you are currently alone at the Burrow. As this would not be considered a safe place to meet, I thought that I would propose something different. If you accept, this letter will become a Portkey, once you place the correct spell upon it. Since it is connected directly to my magic, however, the ministry won’t notice it._

_I can understand that my prolonged absence maybe unappealing to you, and if you seek to punish me, merely burn the letter. If you do not arrive at the safe house within the next hour, I will know what your decision-making was, and I will not fault you. However, if you do wish to come and spend a few hours with me, it would positively make the remainder of this year a pure delight for me, and, I do hope, for you._

_I shall await your answer, and, no matter what it proves to be, I shall not hold it against you, especially if you decide not to come._

_Severus Snape_

Harry didn’t need to think twice. He’d taken a long and leisurely shower the night before, so it wasn’t as if he was no longer clean. Quickly, he dove into his trunk, searching for a nicer pair of clothes, and came out with a pair of dark trousers, dress shoes and corresponding socks, a green button-down, and a black cardigan. He then set about casting a Cleaning Charm upon his teeth, and attempting to get his hair out of a disarray but, as always, it did no good. Finally, he put on some warm clothes, unknowing what the man had planned for them, but also knowing that he should come prepared regardless.

Once everything was in place, Harry grabbed ahold of the letter again, and pointed his wand directly at it. “ _Portus_ ,” he whispered.

He was suddenly thrown up into the air, and did his best to keep a good grip upon the Portkey, before he was swallowed up, Charlie’s bedroom disappearing behind him. When he suddenly broke through the sky and hurtled downward, he did his best to land upon his feet, and somehow succeeded in doing so. Looking around, he saw that he had landed on a generous portion of grass directly opposite a rather large red-bricked house, amid old ruins nearby.

Harry’s ears pricked up then as the front door to the place opened, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Severus standing in the doorway. Pocketing the letter and his wand, he immediately marched up the grass towards the door, feeling a sense of determination with each step. It stunned him that Severus appeared to be taken aback by his actions, but, in that moment, he didn’t give one whit.

As he stepped forward, finally close enough to breathe in that fresh scent of oregano that always seemed to cling to the man, he wrapped his arms automatically around the man’s neck and kissed him as deeply as he could. His heart shuddered from within his chest then as Severus, finally having caught on to what Harry’s angle was, wrapped his arms around him and proceeded to plunder his mouth. Pushing himself further into the man’s arms, somehow managing to wrap his legs around his torso, a gasp escaped from his lips as Severus spelled the door closed locked it behind them without a word, and proceeded to haul Harry upstairs.

“Fuck, Severus,” Harry groaned, having finally broken the kiss, due to need for air, and felt his toes curl as the man began to suck at his neck. “Fuck,” he moaned.

“Yes, my Harry,” Severus whispered, reaching the top of the staircase and seeming to choose a bedroom at random, which he also spelled shut and locked.

Harry jumped down from Severus’s arms and began tearing off his clothes, before reaching out in an attempt to help the older man. He felt his cheeks flushing deeper as every moment passed, not to mention his heart threatening to rip out of his chest, as well as the sensations upon his lips, which were bitten and bruised to the quick, based on Severus’s previous assault. Once the pair of them were naked, Harry let out a squeal as Severus took ahold of him by the hips, and proceeded to move towards the bed, but Harry quickly stopped him.

“What is it, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry grinned at Severus, before taking him by the hand and guiding him towards the wall, which was directly opposite from the bed. Without hesitation, he pushed himself up against it, and yanked Severus forward, and rubbed himself up against him. “Fuck me against the wall, my Severus,” he whispered throatily.

Severus’s breath caught in his throat at Harry’s request, but nevertheless snapped his fingers, which caused his bottle of lubricant to come flying into them. He didn’t even need to demand that Harry spread his legs, for the little brat was already doing it for him, anchoring himself like a limpet around his former potions master’s body. Severus teased Harry’s opening for a moment before plunging a finger deep within his younger lover, smirking as Harry cried out, and began fucking himself on the man’s finger.

“This is what you wanted?” Severus managed to grind out, as he continued fingering Harry, and taking great delight on the way he made his eyes roll back in his head.

“Gods, yes,” Harry moaned.

“You want me to finger you open all the way for me, up against this wall?”

“Merlin, Severus, yes,” Harry said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone of voice, directed all at his lover.

“Want me to slowly tear you down, bit by bit, to the point where you wouldn’t even consider fucking anyone else?”

“I’d never fuck anyone else... Oh, yes, right there,” Harry said, putting his face into Severus’s shoulder as he arched his back further.

“A likely story,” Severus muttered, adding a second finger into the mix, as he continued to pump the joints in and out of his lover.

“I wouldn’t... Would never,” Harry said, his breath hot upon Severus’s skin. “I couldn’t... I’m with you... I chose you...”

“Hardly a fair competition,” Severus muttered, shaking his head as he continued to make Harry slowly but surely come undone.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Harry managed to get out.

“Whatever you say, Harry,” Severus said quietly, knowing that it was hardly a good way to provoke his younger lover, given how much pleasure he was giving him. It was amazing that he could carry on a conversation, and there was no way in Merlin’s name that he would be able to form an unbiased opinion on the matter. He continued in his vein of teasing him, before adding a third finger into Harry’s delectable and delicious arse.

“Fuck, _Severus_!” Harry yelled, as Severus brushed his prostate for what must have been the umpteenth time, but it was always as amazing as it had been the first time.

“Yes, my Harry, open up for me,” Severus encouraged. “Let me in.”

“More, more,” Harry moaned, fucking himself on the man’s fingers now, desperate. “Inside me, Severus, please. Get inside me...”

Severus sighed, knowing that he couldn’t possibly delay his own release anymore, before he slowly pulled his trio of fingers from his lover’s arse. He slicked himself up as Harry held on tightly to him, before he slowly guided his head into his teen lover. He held himself back then, not wanting to hurt Harry, and waited for his nod, before he slowly eased himself in.

“In. Me. _NOW_!” The final word came out like a roar, as Harry suddenly pressed his heels into Severus’s own arse, pushing his lover into him, up to the hilt, and Severus and Harry hissed from their teeth simultaneously.

“Harry, patience is—”

“Not my first virtue,” Harry groaned, his eyes seemingly stuck behind his head as waves of pleasure rolled off him. “Which you well know, I’m sure. Stubborn Gryffindor, remember?” he said, his eyes finally latching onto Severus’s, whereupon he gave the man a cheeky grin, his face flushed becomingly.

Severus chuckled despite himself, shaking his head, as he casted a wandless Cushioning Charm behind Harry, not wanting the younger man to have to explain any untoward-looking bruises to anyone after they were through there that day. Not that he would ever seek to deliberately give Harry bruises of any kind. Given what he’d been through with those sorry excuses for human beings in his years before Hogwarts, as well as the summers between most of the terms, he would never seek to be in an abusive relationship with his lover. Yes, he was well-aware of the kinkier sides of things when it came to relationships, and although both Harry and Severus liked rough sex, they most certainly had never hurt each other.

“Fuck me, Severus,” Harry said softly, mewling into the man’s neck. “I can’t wait anymore, and I want to come with you, please, please...”

Severus pulled back slightly to get a good look at Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, who had inexplicably chosen him. He shook his head slightly in amusement as he bucked his hips back and forth, fucking the sixteen-year-old, stiffening as the impenitent brat squeezed around him, knowing how much it drove him mad. Yes, it was one of the most amazing sensations he had ever experienced, but it would only speed things up, when Severus far preferred to take his time and savor each moment with his lover.

“Harry, I don’t wish to rush things,” Severus said firmly.

Harry wiggled his hips slightly, likely seeking a better angle, one in which Severus could presumably hit his prostate repeatedly. “Meaning?” he asked casually.

Severus muttered under his breath, slightly annoyed that Harry would actually make him explain such a thing, when the young man knew full well what he was talking about. “If you squeeze your inner walls of your delicious arse around my cock much more,” he went on, in full-lecture mode, which caused Harry’s eyes to snap to his, “I will be forced to come immediately inside you, and I was not aware that you were there yet.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “Not fully, no,” he said, and moved back and forth slightly, his engorged cock, caught between them, rubbing suggestively along Severus’s stomach.

Severus sighed, knowing full well that he would have to be patient with Harry, due to the fact that they hadn’t seen one another in two full months. The young man, if he had been as loyal as he had claimed, had presumably gone without this intimate form of physical contact, and was likely desperate for a proper release. As Severus snapped his hips this way and that, attempting to seek out Harry’s prostate with the head of his cock, Harry suddenly stiffened, and Severus knew that he had found his objective.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” the younger man asked.

Severus bit his lip, not knowing what to say, but also wanting an answer to the question which had successfully managed to haunt him these many weeks. Perhaps, as Harry often thought, the direct approach would be the best one, so he decided to go with that. “Have you been...close with anyone else...?”

Harry’s head snapped backwards then; his pupils were dilated, showcasing for Severus the profound effect he had on the man, and he shuddered in the man’s arms, and Severus seemed to detect a wave of sadness flowing from him. “You mean sex?”

“Yes, sex,” Severus affirmed, nodding his head. “Are you having it with anyone else, or have you ever...”

“No, no,” Harry said, immediately shaking his head at the man. “And, if you don’t believe me, I would be glad to have you look into my mind...”

“No, that is not necessary,” Severus said quickly, hating himself for having distressed the man, for it really was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“I wouldn’t,” Harry said then, his voice filled with determination then, as he took ahold of Severus’s face, and stared deeply into his eyes. “Don’t you get it?” he asked him. “It’s you, Severus. It’s always been you, and it’ll always be you.”

Severus’s eyes widened at the declaration, before he pulled the younger man closer to him and latched his lips onto his. His tongue sought entrance to his mouth, and he was immediately filled with relief when it was permitted access. Their tongues, and their bodies, engaged in the oldest dance their was, as their tongues licked and caressed, and Severus’s member plundered deeply into Harry. Harry arched his back then, never breaking off the kiss, although a little mewl _did_ escape his lips as Severus’s hand dove downwards and wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock, and proceeded to pump him quickly.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned, tearing his lips away from Severus’s. “Harder, harder...!”

“Whatever you want,” Severus declared then, snapping his hips back and forth, as he slammed repeatedly into Harry’s willing arse.

“Oh, oh, fuck... More!” Harry cried out.

“Yes, Harry, yes!” Severus shouted.

Harry let out a scream then, as he came between them, his come covering both their bellies and Severus’s hand, significantly larger than his own. Wanting them to come as close as possible to one another, Harry clamped his inner walls around Severus’s particularly large member, and the man quickly spasmed above him, a moan tearing from his lips, as Harry’s insides were suddenly coated with that distinctive warm liquid.

Severus gently pulled out of Harry, and casted a Cleaning Charm upon them both, before gently easing Harry’s legs down from around his torso. He then took Harry by the hand and brought him into the attached bathroom, where Harry saw a bathtub big enough for a small army, which rivalled that of the prefects’ bath, back at Hogwarts. The bathtub was filled with bubbles, and Harry detected a Warming Cham as Severus helped him into it, and climbed in himself, pulling Harry against him, so that Harry’s back was pressed against Severus’s chest.

Harry let out a little coo as he leaned back against Severus, and smiled immediately as the man wrapped his arms around him. “That was amazing,” he whispered.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Severus observed.

Harry reached down then, wrapping a hand around Severus’s, and slowly brought the appendages out from beneath the water. He first compared them side-by-side, and was pleased that Severus let him do so, before he permitted the older man to wrap his hand around his, and submerge back into the water.

“Why do you do that?” Harry asked.

“Do what?”

Harry swallowed. “Hide,” he said quietly.

Severus stiffened from behind him. “Are you calling me a coward?” he asked then, his voice devoid of humor. “Because, if there’s one thing I’ll never let you get away with, Harry James Potter, it’s calling me a coward...”

“No! Merlin, no!” Harry cried out then, turning around fully in the bath and facing Severus, and shook his head. “I would never do that, Severus. Never.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Then what is it you are doing, Harry?”

Harry sighed, realizing that all was not lost, considering that the man had not reverted to addressing him as ‘Potter’. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said quietly, tracing patterns in the bubbles around him. “I just meant that you shouldn’t hide, especially not from me, given what we are to each other...”

“We’re lovers, Harry,” Severus informed him.

Harry nodded. “I know that.” He rolled his shoulders then, realizing that he wasn’t getting anywhere, so he thought it best to drop the subject.

“How were your holidays at the Burrow?”

“Fine,” Harry replied, allowing himself to be coaxed back into Severus’s arms.

“Why did you not return to Grimmauld?”

“Because of Sirius’s behavior last summer,” he said simply. “He came to Hogwarts a few weeks ago, you know, before term ended.”

“Did he?” Severus asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes. He wanted... Well, I think he wished that I would see everything entirely from his point of view, and cast you off,” he said quietly. “I set him straight, because I know that I’m staying with you, no matter what.”

“I see,” Severus replied.

Harry swallowed, not liking where this conversation was going. “Molly’s decreed that Draco is an honorary Weasley,” he said, hoping that the change in subject would help.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. She’s made him a Weasley jumper, and he actually wears his, unlike Ron.”

“I’ve seen Ronald Weasley in a jumper more than once,” Severus observed. “Maroon isn’t a particularly good color on him...”

“Ron hates the color,” Harry put in. “Molly used to make them that way, so even if Ron would wear them, he wouldn’t like it.”

“What color is Draco’s jumper then?”

“Green,” Harry replied, “with a silver _D_ on the front.”

“Suitable for a Slytherin, I see,” Severus said. “I’m pleased that Molly Weasley doesn’t seem to mind that her only daughter has chosen one.”

“Molly just wants her children to be happy... Well, mostly,” Harry amended, recalling that she had given Bill and Fleur the silent treatment since the proposal.

“I’m sensing a story there...”

“Quite,” Harry said with a lighthearted chuckle. “Bill’s proposed to Fleur.”

“Has he?”

“Yes. On Christmas morning, in fact.”

“Let me guess—it was a family affair?” Severus asked.

“Yes,” Harry affirmed. “Bill did the whole romantic proposal thing, and then Fleur cried and said yes. Then, all the guys congratulated Bill, and all the women wanted to see Fleur’s ring, of course. Lovely piece, if I do say so myself,” Harry told him.

“And Molly Weasley was displeased?”

Harry sighed. “It took Ginny quite some time to fully come round to Fleur, but Molly doesn’t even seem to want to make an effort, unfortunately,” he said quietly. “I say, if your child is happy, and their partner isn’t a complete nightmare, put your own feelings aside, and be happy for them.”

Severus huffed. “Well, Miss Delacour is not a _complete_ nightmare,” he observed, his voice quiet and yet thoughtful.

“You think you’ll ever get married?” Harry asked.

Severus scoffed. “Married? No.”

Harry felt as if something slammed through him then, but was determined not to show it. “Oh?” he asked instead. “Why?”

“It is merely a worthless piece of parchment, wherein you must get the government or local authorities involved, and Merlin knows how much they like to stick their noses in every little thing there is,” Severus said, annoyed now. “Not to mention the expense. Muggles have such overblown traditions when it comes to weddings—inviting everyone they’ve ever met, from their aunts, to second-cousins, to people they met on the street one summer that seemed to make a somewhat worthy impression upon them...”

“Not all weddings are like that,” Harry said softly.

Severus huffed. “Perhaps, perhaps not,” he admitted with a shrug. “I, however, will never subject myself to being tied down to someone permanently.”

Harry blinked, and turned to look at Severus. “But what if you were in love?”

“Love is hardly something to be discussed during a war, Harry,” Severus informed him firmly, and Harry hated the harshness behind the man’s voice.

“But... Haven’t you ever been in love?”

“Whether I have been in love or not is hardly a concern of yours, Harry.”

“Right, then. Happy New Year, Severus,” Harry said, pushing himself out of the bath and drying himself off with a towel, before he trudged back into the bedroom. He didn’t hear Severus climb out of the bath behind him, and he was filled with relief at the notion. He quickly dressed, remembering how tender everything had been just a few moments ago, and now, it was ruined. Shaking his head, he made a grab for the letter and his wand, and whispered, “ _Portus_ ,” which found him back in Charlie’s bedroom at the Burrow.

Just as he headed downstairs for something to eat, he caught a whiff of something, and realized it was the lingering smell of the roast goose from Christmas dinner. He immediately bolted to the bathroom on the main floor, kicking the door shut automatically before he fell to his knees before the loo. As tears blinded him, he threw up all he had eaten the day before, and struggled to believe that all this sickness had to do completely with nerves.

~*~

Second-term took off without a hitch, and Harry was relieved that people had stopped questioning whether or not he, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Neville, or Luna had had a hand in McLaggen’s inability to return to Hogwarts. Snow still covered the campus, and yet Harry constantly seemed to be warm these days. When Draco and Ron causally suggested that it was hormonal, and that Harry should consider dating, Harry was so filled with disgust that he’d taken off, and not spoken to them for a day and a half.

He couldn’t believe how pleasant his day with Severus had started off, and then turned into something straight out of nightmares. It seemed that Severus wanted a future with Harry, but not one in which he would have to commit to him. He didn’t want to be seen in public, that’s what Harry had quickly managed to gather, and it broke his heart in two. Now he was completely positive that he loved the man, and yet, he was beginning to suspect that that feeling was not reciprocated at all.

Hermione and Ginny had been more understanding, and had continually helped Harry out with his assignments, plied him with treacle tart, and even sent for Dobby to attempt to cheer him up, but nothing they did was working. They had subsequently yelled at both Ron and Draco for the inconsiderate nature of their comments, and Harry was slightly taken aback when they both apologized to him. Resolving to push the final hours of his holidays behind him, in which he had laid in Charlie’s bed, staring at the ceiling, and attempting not to be sick, he pushed himself into his school work, and hoped beyond hope that Remus wouldn’t notice.

It was during the second week of second-term that Harry inadvertently heard a conversation between Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore about Severus. Harry, wandering the castle at night beneath his invisibility cloak, suddenly surged closer, wanting to know about any and all information about his lover. Despite the knowledge that the man hadn’t made an effort to reach out to him since term began, he hoped beyond hope that the man still cared.

“Have you heard from Severus lately, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I have,” Dumbledore replied. “I even sent him a birthday gift.”

“Should I send something as well?”

“Of course, Minerva,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “I can send it care of Fawkes. I have the distinct feeling that my familiar knows everything, you know,” he said, letting out a delightful chuckle, whilst Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

Harry hated himself for not knowing when the man’s birthday was, but returned to the common room, resolving to sneak into Hogsmeade the following day, in order to obtain something appropriate. When the appropriate hour came, Harry went down to the wizarding village during lunch and headed directly towards Tomes and Scrolls, having a vague idea of what he wanted. It wasn’t busy that day, but he nevertheless waved to Mr. Ash, who smiled warmly at Harry, as he made his way to the potions section. Spotting a new edition of _Moste Potente Potions_ , Harry hastily made a grab for the book and brought it up to the counter, and to Mr. Ash.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Ash said, looking down at Harry’s intended purchase with approval as he proceeded to figure out its worth. “Just came in on a shipment last night, and I believe you’re the first person to have procured this book, Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, sir,” he replied.

“Would you like it wrapped?”

“Yes. It’s for a friend,” Harry told him.

Mr. Ash nodded, and Harry selected green wrapping and a silver ribbon, before Mr. Ash spelled it together, and gave a smile. “With that wrapping, that comes to six Galleons, four Sickles, and one Knut,” he said promptly.

Harry counted out the money and handed it over, before thanking Mr. Ash and slipping out of the bookshop. In a small alley between the shops, Harry pulled his cloak back over his head, and ran back up the hill towards the castle. Once the wards had let him in, Harry went as fast as he could towards the owlery, hoping that the spell was still placed upon Hedwig’s nest. As he entered the owlery and pulled off the cloak, Hedwig, Alexander, and Galentine immediately hooted at Harry’s presence, and he stepped forward.

“Mind if I send this off, girl?” he asked Hedwig, and nodded towards her nest.

Considerately, Hedwig stepped back, gently nudging Galentine over into Alexander’s nest temporarily, and permitting Harry to stuff the wrapped parcel beneath the hay which lined her nest that kept her and Galentine warm. Covering it expertly with hay, Harry held his breath for a moment, before the book slowly but surely disappeared, and he quickly breathed a sigh of relief once it was gone.

“Thanks, Hedwig,” he said, offering the three of them some owl treats, before he moved out of the owlery, and down the steep incline. As he walked back to the castle, not bothering to conceal himself this time, he suddenly realized that he had not attached a note to Severus’s gift. But, he suddenly realized then, he had no idea what to say to the man, for the man had broken his heart, and Harry was not fully prepared to address it yet.


	16. Fall Far From the Tree

The third Friday in January brought the first Hogsmeade weekend of second-term, and Harry was relieved when Ron and Hermione agreed to go with him. He heard from Ginny that Luna and Neville had a date at Madam Puddifoot’s to celebrate one of their anniversaries, while Draco was going to surprise Ginny with a carriage ride up and down the streets of the little wizarding village, with full cooperation of Dumbledore and the various employees of the village. There was plenty of snow upon the ground as they walked down the slope from the Hogwarts grounds, along the twisting road, and ultimately across the little stone bridge, until they entered the village and looked around.

Harry felt a burst of laughter escape from him when Ron suddenly darted forward and grabbed Hermione by the hand as she looked longingly into the window display of Tomes and Scrolls, which boasted the latest edition of _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ by Begonia Ironbark, and took off down the street. Harry went off after them, and wasn’t at all surprised when Ron took Hermione by the hand and brought her into Honeydukes. Hermione rolled her eyes indulgently but allowed Ron to wander into the sweet shop ahead, and waited for Harry to catch up to them before going inside herself.

“Sure does love his sweets, doesn’t he?” Hermione observed softly to Harry, as the pair watched Ron scurry about from display to display, filling a little shopping basket with sweet after sweet, confection after confection, his brown eyes filled with glee.

“Least we know where the term, ‘kid in a candy store’ comes from,” Harry replied ruefully, and snagged a basket for himself, and handed one over to Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, muttered something about ‘boys’ and ‘eating’ and ‘overindulgence’ under her breath, but nevertheless ventured down various aisles, looking at the sweets on offer meticulously, and slowly began adding things to her basket. Harry, from where he stood—adding a few Chocolate Frogs to his basket, after realizing that Ron hadn’t gotten to all of them—watched Hermione’s progress, and noticed that she had already added Sugar Quills, Licorice Wands, and Toothflossing Stringmints to her basket. Once Harry had completed his own task of getting his hands on some Chocolate Frogs, he himself added Pumpkin Fizz, Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans, Exploding Bonbons, and Cauldron Cakes to his own basket.

Once he, Ron, and Hermione had finished perusing the wares, they brought their baskets up to the counter and handed over the proper amount of wizarding currency for each purpose. After this was done, the proprietor of the shop considerately shrunk down their carrier bags and waved them off, while the trio stuffed each of their bags into their pockets and trooped back out into the snow, which had begun to lightly fall again. Harry, again, suggested a Butterbeer, and the trio then walked off towards The Three Broomsticks, getting a table in the back, with Hermione ordering them their usual.

As they sat down—with Harry and Ron on one side of the four-person table, and Hermione on the other—Harry noticed Leanne Lyre sitting rather anxiously at a table in the front portion of the establishment. Her long, pale fingers were tinkering with her glass, half-full of Butterbeer, and she was looking around, clearly for something. It surprised Harry to see her without her closest friend, Katie Bell, and wondered if her anxiety was connected to Katie in some way. As Harry continued to wait with Ron and Hermione for their Butterbeers to be brought to their table—he ignored their conversation, as well as the buzz of the conversations from the various patrons around them, and was surprised when Draco walked in.

Straightening up, Harry’s eyes locked with Draco’s, but Draco appeared to be slightly taken aback by the look, faltering in his steps for a moment. When Harry lifted his hand to wave to his friend, the blond Slytherin’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he climbed the staircase and went into the door about halfway up. Perplexed, as he’d previously heard from Ginny about her plans with Draco that day, he wondered if something had come up, or if they’d had an argument, which could likely account for Draco’s bizarre behavior.

“Harry?”

Harry snapped to attention then, forcing a smile onto his lips towards Hermione, who had spoken, as the waiter put their Butterbeers down upon the table. “Thanks,” he said to the man, who nodded, before wandering off to complete another task.

“We were just talking about the Easter holidays, mate,” Ron said, lifting his drink towards his lips, the words directed entirely at Harry. “I know it’s not exactly for a while, and we’ve only just come back for Christmas...”

“But,” Hermione said, noticing when her boyfriend was faltering, “we were wondering where you planned to go, or if you would be staying at Hogwarts.”

Harry swallowed, staring into the amber depths of his drink. “I thought I might go to Grimmauld to attempt to figure out all this with Sirius,” he replied.

Ron nodded, clapping Harry good-naturedly upon the back. “Good on you, Harry. Want us to come with, or do you want to be alone?”

“I’d love it if you guys came, honestly,” Harry said, knowing that Ron and Hermione could potentially act as a good buffer, in an attempt to diffuse any situation that led south, when it came to his godfather. “Maybe Draco can bring Ginny.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione replied with a smile. “Mum and Dad will probably ask me what my own plans are in the next few weeks. As long as it’s all right with them, and Sirius, of course, I’d love to go to Islington.”

“And I’m sure Mum won’t mind if Ginny and I come,” Ron assured Harry. “I think she likes extra alone time with Dad.”

“Honestly, Ronald, you act as if your parents aren’t close anymore,” Hermione said with a giggle which burst forth from her lips.

“They’ve had seven children already, ‘Mione,” Ron said, turning red to his ears. “Maybe it would do Dad some good to keep his distance from Mum...”

“How do you think their marriage has survived this long, Ron?” Hermione asked, deliberately being patient with him.

Ron swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. “Dunno... Maybe because they can talk about things with each other?”

“Clearly, they still sleep together, Ron,” Harry put in, watching as his best mate had taken a sip of his drink before saying anything.

Ron blew his drink all over the table. “Harry! Bloody hell,” he sputtered, and Harry smirked at the outcome, with Hermione rolling her eyes and vanishing the spill.

“Well, they do share a room still, don’t they?” Harry queried, looking innocently at Ron, who immediately narrowed his eyes.

“Both of you, enough,” Hermione said, and Harry and Ron turned to their drinks, but Harry knew that it wasn’t over.

Once their Butterbeers were paid for and they’d decided to eat lunch back at the castle, the trio left The Three Broomsticks and made their way back towards the school. As they neared the bridge and cleared it, through the mist of snow ahead, Harry saw Leanne and Katie, the former of whom was whispering something, and the latter was bent over a parcel she was carrying, and walking with determination back to the school. As Ron and Hermione talked beside him, Harry was soon invited to join in the conversation.

“What do you think, Harry?” Ron asked.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you think I should do after NEWTs?” Ron wanted to know.

Harry swallowed. “Let’s see how well you do on your NEWTs first,” he joked, and Hermione hid her smile, and Ron appeared as if he was about to grab Harry and throttle him—in a brotherly way, of course—when a sharp scream cut through the air, causing the trio to turn towards Leanne and Katie.

“I warned her!” Leanne cried out, staring at the three of them, her voice trembling, while Katie was lying in a snow drift behind her, the parcel partially open, and lying beside the witch. “I warned her not to touch it!”

It was then that a muffled scream cut through the air, as dark magic pumped through Katie’s entire body, and she was pulled this way and that along the snow, via an invisible force. She was then thrown up into the air by nothing, a second scream coming out of her mouth, as her hair plumed all around her, her arms and legs stuck out every which way. All Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne could do was watch, horrified, as Katie then plummeted back into the snow like a ragdoll, and fell unconscious.

“Get back, all of yeh!” came Hagrid’s authoritative tone, as he stepped into the fray, coming from the direction of the castle, and effortlessly lifted up Katie. He turned over his shoulder then, just as Harry had gotten closer to the package, to see some sort of necklace inside. “Don’t touch tha’ except for the wrappings! Do yer understand?” the giant demanded.

Harry gave a nod and stood back, permitting Hermione to levitate the necklace back into its parcel, and shut it up with a complex Locking Spell he’d never heard of, while Ron sent off an emergency Patronus, hoping beyond hope that a member of the staff would meet them at the gates to collect the necklace. Harry then dove downwards and gathered it up, stuffing it into his coat pocket, as he, Ron, and Hermione took off after Leanne, who was running after Hagrid, still holding onto Katie. Once they cleared the wards of the school, he spotted Professor McGonagall waiting for them, and she ushered the three of them into Remus’s classroom.

“Remus,” she said, her tartan robes billowing out behind her.

“Minerva?” came Remus’s voice, and he came out from within his study, his brow furrowed at her tone. He gave a glance towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione, before looking at the Head of Gryffindor house and came down the stairs. “I was doing some marking while the students were down in Hogsmeade; thought I’d take advantage of some of the quiet. Is everything all right?” he queried, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“No, Remus is it not,” Professor McGonagall said, turning to Harry. “Potter, please take the parcel out from your jacket,” she ordered firmly.

Harry nodded and strode forward, removing the parcel from his jacket pocket and placing it carefully onto Remus’s desk at the front of the room. “It’s a cursed object,” he informed Remus softly, and Remus nodded in understanding, as he drew out his wand.

“ _Alohomora_ ,” Remus said, and the parcel and box within opened and unlocked for him respectively, and he quickly levitated the necklace, looking it over, his eyes darkening. “What’s happened?” he whispered. “Who had this?”

“Katie Bell, sir,” Hermione replied.

“Leanne Lyre was with her in The Three Broomsticks, and they were talking about something as they left the pub together, professor,” Ron put in.

Remus looked up at Professor McGonagall. “Perhaps Leanne can be sent for, Minerva, so as we may have as much of the tale as possible?”

The Head of Gryffindor House nodded. “I shall send my Patronus to Poppy at once,” she said, and crossed to the other end of the room, allowing the cat bathed in silver light to come out to play, and sent it off to the hospital wing, where Leanne had likely followed Hagrid, to bring Katie to Madam Pomfrey for care.

“Is that all the three of you know of this?” Remus asked, looking over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, as Professor McGonagall summoned Leanne through Madam Pomfrey.

Harry shrugged, not wanting to sell out Draco, not without knowing everything. “I think Leanne got a more complete account of what happened, sir,” he admitted, and Ron and Hermione nodded from either side of him. “She’d be of better help than we are.”

“Thank you, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, nodding at Harry in approval. “Ten points will be awarded to each of you, for keeping a level head in a crisis.”

“Thank you, professor,” Hermione said, although her tone was solemn.

“Why don’t you three go back to Gryffindor Tower?” the woman suggested. “Have Dobby bring you something to eat, if you’re feeling at all up to it, and get some rest.”

“Yes, professor,” Ron said, and immediately moved to steer Harry and Hermione out of there, and the three nodded to Leanne as they met her on the way.

Harry said the password to the fat lady and they all trooped inside; it was still fairly early in the day, so the third-years and up were still in the village, while the younger years were likely getting some studying done. The trio plopped down into their favorite chairs beside the fireplace, relieved for something to distract them. As Harry stared into the orange flames, he realized he did feel a bit hungry, and looked up.

“Fancy some lunch?” he asked tentatively.

Hermione nodded. “Soup and sandwiches, with perhaps some Gillywater, and something light for pudding,” she put in.

Ron let out a small sigh. “Sounds brilliant,” he said genuinely.

“Dobby,” Harry said into the silence.

Dobby immediately popped into the common room, and promptly threw himself at Harry’s legs and let out a wail. “It is all over the kitchens, great Master Harry Potter, sir, what befell Master Harry Potter’s good friend, Miss Katie Bell!”

“Yes, Dobby, and we saw it,” Harry told the house-elf softly.

Dobby let out a further wail and looked over Harry. “Is great Master Harry Potter sir quite all right?” he asked, before turning towards Ron and Hermione. “And, naturally, Master Ron and Mistress Hermione were there to see it as well! Oh, no, no, no,” the little elf sobbed, putting his face into his hands and sobbing.

“Dobby,” Hermione said tentatively, and stroked the house-elf’s head, causing him to look up at her, with tear-filled eyes, “we’re all going to be all right.”

Dobby sighed, before he nodded to himself. “Lovely Mistress Hermione Granger is a good and kind witch, and intelligent to boot. She would never lie to Dobby, not after giving him all of those beautiful hats and socks.”

“You’re welcome, Dobby,” Hermione said gently.

Dobby then launched forward and hugged Hermione’s legs, and she patiently stroked his head, and smiled to herself, never realizing how soft it was.

“Dobby,” Harry said gently after a few moments, “we were hungry, and wondering if you could possibly bring us some lunch here.”

“Dobby can do that, great Master Harry Potter, sir!” the house-elf crowed, letting go of Hermione’s legs with a final squeeze and turning back to Harry. “What can Dobby get great Master Harry Potter sir, and his friends?”

“Potato soup for us all, please Dobby, with a roast beef sandwich for me, a bacon one for Ron, and a chicken salad for Hermione. And then three Gillywaters, and Arctic rolls for our puddings, if you please,” he said, and Ron and Hermione nodded in approval at what he’d selected for their pudding.

“Dobby will go straight down to the kitchens, great Master Harry Potter, sir, and get your lunches immediately!” he said, and snapped his fingers, and was gone.

It was just a few moments later that their food appeared before them, along with crisps and a bowl of fruit for each of them, and Hermione performed an Extension Charm to the table, so as to accommodate everything, and a Stasis Charm onto their pudding, so as the ice cream wouldn’t melt. As they ate, they chattered about the events of the day, and slowly but surely began to thaw from it all. Harry wondered what was up with the necklace, and it was clearly enchanted with dark magic, and there was something eating away at him, that the necklace was connected to Draco, but he couldn’t understand why.

About a quarter of an hour later, the portrait swung open and Ginny stormed in, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed, and her face pale as she stumbled slightly on the set of stairs, just managing to catch her footing before she fell. She hesitated for a moment, gazing at the trio, her lower lip trembling with a sudden onset of emotion, as she likely debated whether or not to say anything to them all. Not to won out in the end, and she stormed towards the stairs.

“Oi!” Ron called. “How did things go with Draco?”

Ginny promptly whipped around then, her eyes blazing with a combination of rage and devastation, and pointed a thin, pale finger in Ron’s direction. “ _Never_ mention that name to me ever again, if you know what’s good for you, Ronald Weasley!” she shrieked through her teeth, before she took off upstairs to her dorm, a sob tearing from her throat before she managed to slam the door behind her.

~*~

“Stop it, Ron,” came Hermione’s voice over breakfast on Wednesday morning before their double potions class with Slughorn. “You’re making it snow.” She set down the morning edition of _The Daily Prophet_ , her porridge breakfast forgotten, and turned to face her boyfriend. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked him.

Ron worried his lower lip before giving a shallow nod. “Just... Hogsmeade got to me over the weekend, you know?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course we know,” she replied. “Don’t we, Harry?” she asked, calling attention to her best friend, who had his nose in the morning copy of _The Quibbler_.

“Of course,” Harry replied, looking up, wondering if Mr. Lovegood and Luna would ever solve the mystery of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

Ron sighed, rolling his shoulders and putting his wand into his pocket, as he pulled his plate of breakfast back towards him, which consisted of fried eggs, sausages, rashers, and a couple slices of toast. “Just suppose that snow is the only weather my wand can make these days,” he said to his girlfriend and best friend softly, stabbing a sausage before he hesitated. “Guess I’m just worried that the Dark Arts could potentially take over everything...”

“Dumbledore said that he, Professor Lupin, and Professor Flitwick were leading the investigation into the necklace,” Hermione said calmly, which Professor McGonagall had told the entirety of Gryffindor House in their common room Sunday evening. “Whoever gave the necklace to Katie, surely...” Hermione broke off then, looking up, and her brown eyes widened slightly then, before she turned to look at Harry. “Harry,” she whispered, “there’s Katie. Looks as if she’s back from St. Mungo’s,” she went on.

Harry rolled up his copy of _The Quibbler_ and put it into his back pocket, before he took off after Katie and tapped her shoulder. “Katie?” he asked.

Katie turned around then and gave Harry a tentative smile; her raven hair was done up in an understated plate down her back, and her Gryffindor robes were all in place. “I know what you’re going to ask me, Harry.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

She continued smiling good-naturedly at him. “I know you’re going to ask me about the necklace and Hogsmeade and me being cursed,” she went on, her London accent, normally so enthusiastic on the Quidditch pitch, now formal and subdued. “But, in all honesty, Harry, I just don’t remember what all happened to me, and I like it better that way. The only thing I do remember is being determined to give the parcel to Dumbledore, whatever that means...”

Harry looked up then, past Katie, and saw that Draco himself was standing there, looking shell-shocked, but his gaze was entirely trained upon Ginny. He then let out a sigh before wrapping his robes around him and pulling his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ close to his chest, before he left the Great Hall. “No, Katie, I believe you’re right,” Harry told her with a nod, knowing that he would have to get to the bottom of this, sooner or later.

Harry barely listened to Ron and Hermione’s conversation as they headed to Professor Slughorn’s classroom for potions about a quarter of an hour later. They also barely gave Draco any attention as they slipped into their assigned seats, as the potions professor was flitting about the room, humming a merry tune to himself. Once the hour chimed and everyone had scurried into their seats, Professor Slughorn charmed a piece of chalk to write down their lesson plan for their brewing that day.

“Today, we will be utilizing these two hours to begin to brew a Polyjuice Potion,” Professor Slughorn said as the chalk continued writing furiously behind him. “Now, who can tell me how long this potion must take to be brewed correctly?” he asked, and his eyes landed immediately on Hermione, who raised her hand. “Yes, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“In order to be brewed correctly, sir, Polyjuice Potion must be brewed for at least a month,” she replied effortlessly.

“Excellent, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor,” he said approvingly. “Now, please get your books out and turn to the correct page, wherein you will find the ingredient lists. Don’t hesitate to take out your potions kits either, and all your necessary ingredients will be available in the student storeroom,” he went on patiently.

That day, according to the chalkboard, they would be only performing step one of the potion, which took over an hour, once the brewing process was to begin. The necessary ingredients needed were three measures of fluxweed and two bundles of knotgrass, the former of which needed to be picked upon the full moon. Once Harry added the necessary ingredients, he stirred the potion four times clockwise, and then one additional time counterclockwise, as that was what the Half-Blood Prince advised in his copy of the potions textbook. As Harry, as well as the rest of the class, were using pewter cauldrons, the potion was instructed to brew that day for a total of eighty minutes, meaning that, once finished, Professor Slughorn would check them over and, once deemed a success, would levitate them onto high shelves, before putting markers on them, so as to indicate which cauldron was whose.

Harry was shocked when Draco left to go to the loo, and Harry immediately resolved to do the same, following the sixth-year Slytherin quickly. Once he stepped into the loo after Draco, he saw that he had removed the vest upon his uniform, his hair was mussed, and he was bent over the sink, sobbing. “Draco,” Harry said as he stepped forward, “did you hex Katie?”

Draco’s eyes immediately met Harry’s in the mirror, the silver color tinged with fear. “Don’t say things that you don’t understand, Potter,” he spat.

“It’s Harry,” Harry countered, stepping into the main portion of the loo. “My name is Harry, and you know it. We’ve been friends for over a year now, Draco, and I was sure that our differences were now behind us.”

Draco gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, his entire body trembling. “I shouldn’t even be discussing this with you,” he whispered.

“Why not?” Harry cried out, tentatively stepping closer. “You declared for the side of the Light, Draco, quite some time ago, I might add. You willingly gave up information about Death Eater meetings and your own parents’ political leanings, to Dumbledore, all for protection and to save your relationship with Ginny...”

“It’s ruined,” Draco said, suddenly doubling over and crumpling to his knees, hiding his face in his hands as he suddenly sobbed. “It’s all ruined...”

“Draco?” Harry asked, stepping closer still, while all the while Draco breathed unsteadily, and Harry was coming to the conclusion that he was becoming hysterical. “Draco, you can’t go on like this, you can’t,” he whispered. “You’re not eating, and you’re barely able to keep your head up in class. What’s come over you?”

“I hexed her, all right?!” Draco growled, suddenly leaping to his feet, his face filled with a combination of rage and madness. “I bloody well hexed her, Potter! Now, leave me alone, or else I could ruin someone else as well!” he thundered, making a grab for his vest before he stumbled out of the loo without looking back.

“He admitted to it,” Harry said, staring into the dying embers of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room later that night, beneath a Silencing Charm that Hermione had conjured. “Draco admitted to being the one who hexed Katie.”

“Blimey, mate,” Ron whispered. “I thought we’d pegged him wrong all these years, given his falling in love with Ginny, but maybe we were right...”

“Ronald, haven’t you been listening properly?!” Hermione demanded, her patience, apparently, wearing thin. “Draco was clearly distraught when he gave Harry the information.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I won’t have that slick git running his hands all over my sister again, ‘Mione. I won’t,” he told her.

Hermione appeared to want to say something else, but was suddenly cut off when Ginny stepped into the common room, and automatically settled down in the same area that they were. Almost automatically, Hermione go to her feet and sat beside Ginny, looking her over, before Ginny’s face crumpled and she threw her arms around her.

“Gin?” Harry asked, his tone soft.

Ginny’s face turned slightly, and there were trails of tears coming down her face and out her eyes, without the intention of stopping. “Draco...”

“What in Merlin’s name did he do to you?!” Ron growled, launching to his feet.

“Ronald! Please!” Hermione yelled, and Ron began pacing before the fire.

“What happened, Gin?” Harry wanted to know.

Ginny sobbed aloud then, before she shook her head. “He told me what he did to Katie, so I broke up with him,” she said, a soft wail escaping her lips before she turned her face inwards, and Hermione did her best to comfort her, while Harry had to physically hold Ron back so as he didn’t get points taken for defending his only sister’s honor.

~*~

Harry was relieved when Remus granted Harry permission to invite Ron and Hermione to keep him company during the full moon. Hermione performed the Portal Spell this time, and the trio were all on standby with happy memories chalked up within their minds in case an emergency Patronus needed to be sent. Even though Remus had been getting Wolfsbane from St. Mungo’s and not Severus, Harry had seen that the transformation had been bearable, somewhat, although his heart ached for his lover and how they’d left things, given that Harry hadn’t received a response to the birthday gift he’d sent him.

It was on Saturday, two days later, that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were unexpectedly summoned to the headmaster’s office. After giving the password, Acid Pops, to the gargoyle, they were let inside the place and Ginny nearly bolted from the office. Inside, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, while Remus and Professor McGonagall were standing by, and Draco was sitting in the provided visitor’s chair.

“What’s going on?” Ginny demanded, her voice testy.

“Miss Weasley, you must be respectful—”

“Now, now, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, raising his hand. “Given the animosity between these two, I believe that Miss Weasley is acting honestly and, therefore, appropriately.”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Whatever you think best, Albus.”

Dumbledore sighed before getting to his feet, yet remaining behind his desk. “Remus was able to figure out what was going on that day in Hogsmeade,” he said steadily.

Harry inched forward. “He was?”

“Yes, my boy,” Dumbledore said softly, “although, since it is Draco’s tale to tell, I believe that he should be the one to inform you of it.” The headmaster lowered his eyes to Draco, who slowly got to his feet to face his ex-girlfriend, plus the trio. “Whenever you’re ready, Draco,” he said gently to the haunted-looking Slytherin.

“Through Veritaserum, it was confirmed that I was not in my right mind when I delivered the parcel to Katie Bell,” he began.

Ginny crossed her arms. “I’m listening,” she said.

Draco swallowed. “I was on my way back from the village, after clearing with everyone that we could take a Hogwarts carriage through there a few times, when I was attacked.”

Ginny gritted her teeth. “Attacked?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, trying to keep his tone steady. “I was attacked by my own father, who gave me the parcel, and told me to give it to someone to give to Headmaster Dumbledore. I didn’t want to do it, but... But...”

“You were under the Imperius Curse, weren’t you?” Hermione asked, stepping forward, her tone gentle, and her brown eyes filled with sadness.

“Yes, I was,” Draco replied brokenly. “My father got wind of me defecting from the Dark and going onto the side of the Light, after everything the headmaster did to protect me. All I could do was stand there, once he immobilized me, and took the parcel. Katie was the first person I saw, as she was due to meet Leanne in The Three Broomsticks, and was coming out of Spintwitches Sporting Needs,” he continued. “I just handed her the package, and was able to bewitch her with the Compulsion Spell that my... That Lucius ordered me to use against the person I gave the parcel to, and then I just...”

“He wandered off,” Remus supplied helpfully, from where he stood, leaning against the back wall of the headmaster’s office, still weak from his transformation two days before. “We were able to view his memories in the headmaster’s pensieve, and it showed he got near to Dufftown, without knowing where he was...”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, although his eyes were trained upon Ginny. “I’m so sorry for everything, Ginny, please...”

Ginny hesitated for a moment, her eyes filled with tears, before she turned on her heel and walked out of the office.

“Gin!” Draco cried out then, running after her.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Ron said, taking off after Draco.

“Ronald!” Hermione shouted, and ran after him.

Harry turned to Remus, the headmaster, and his Head of House. “I... I think I’ll just...” He said, and stumbled backwards towards the door.

Dumbledore nodded. “Naturally, my boy. Go on.”

Harry ran from the office and nearly tripped down the spiral staircase, becoming dizzy for half a moment before he stepped into the hallway, seeing Hermione barely managing to hold Ron back, and moved to join her, as the three of them listened to Ginny and Draco.

“You know I turned my back on the side of the Dark over a year ago, Ginny!” Draco said, standing a couple of inches behind Ginny, and making no move to touch her. “The moment I realized that there was another option, and that I was not as safe and loved as I believed myself to be, I left, defected. I went to you.”

Ginny turned around slightly then, her eyes still filled with tears, as she worried her lower lip. “I thought we could tell each other everything, Draco,” she whispered.

“I literally _couldn’t_ tell you this, Ginny, because I was cursed not to do so,” Draco said, wanting to get the point across. “I would never withhold information from you.”

Ginny swallowed. “What if it’s meant to protect me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to protect you, Ginny, more than anything, because I love you more than anything. And yet I know that you would go on and on about how you can protect yourself, and I know you can, because I know you, and I know your heart, and I know your soul, Ginevra Molly Weasley.”

Ginny tentatively turned fully around then, shaking her head and stepping forward. Then, without hesitation, she hit at Draco over and over again, and yelled, “Do you realize how much of an arse I thought you were being, Draco Malfoy?!” she demanded, her expression that blazing look of hers. “I thought that, not only was my boyfriend and the love of my life turning to the side of the Dark again, but I also thought that you didn’t want me anymore!”

Draco caught at Ginny’s hands then, and gently smoothed out her fists so that her fingers unraveled themselves from her hands. “Listen to me, Ginny,” Draco whispered to her, and Ginny’s cheeks immediately flushed at the intimacy of his voice. “I will never not want you, do you hear me? In fact, I’m going to ask your mother and father for their blessing as soon as you’re of age, because I fully intend upon making you my wife when that time comes.”

“Now, wait a—” Ron began.

“Belt up, Ron!” Hermione hissed at him.

A watery smile overtook Ginny’s face then and she gently took her hands from Draco’s in order to cup his face. “And when that day comes, Draco, my answer will be yes,” she said softly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Ginny,” Draco whispered, and lowered his lips to hers.


	17. Fallen Cradle

A few moments later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco had gone to Draco’s solo bedroom across the castle. Harry sat on the provided ottoman, Hermione was perched upon the desk, Ron was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and Ginny was sitting beside Draco upon the bed. Once Ginny and Draco had made up in their rather public display in the hallway outside the Headmaster’s Tower, Draco persuaded them all to come to his rooms, in an effort to explain further what had happened.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has arranged for the Aurors to view my memories,” he explained softly, while Ginny curled her hand around his. “He’s confident that, once they’ve seen them, that they will go to Malfoy Manor and arrest Lucius.”

Ginny hesitated with her stroking then, and suddenly pitched forward, yanking Draco’s vest and unbuttoning his shirt, and Ron stepped forward.

“Oi, Gin, could you wait until I’m gone before you—!”

“Belt up, Ron!” Ginny hissed through her teeth as Hermione’s arm came out and prevented Ron from attacking anyone. Painstakingly, Ginny unbuttoned the rest of Draco’s shirt and pulled it off of him, and drew back immediately at what she saw. “Merlin, Draco,” she breathed, tears filling her eyes.

Harry got to his feet and circled the bed, doubling backwards at the sight of the deep lashings that littered Draco’s back, so much so that Ron had to grab ahold of him to prevent him from potentially falling and hitting his head. “Merlin, Draco, what happened?” he demanded, hearing Hermione give a sharp intake of breath then, leading him to believe that she was crying.

“Lucius,” Draco said bitterly as Ginny hopped off the bed and dashed towards the bathroom, and vomited in the loo, causing Draco to wince for a moment. “He borrowed Bellatrix’s enchanted whip and used it to cut into me, before he cursed me, because I tried to resist the task of delivering the parcel.”

Ginny emerged from the loo a moment later, after washing her hands and face and rinsing out her mouth, and was holding a brown potion bottle. “Essence of Dittany,” she said softly and climbed back onto the bed and behind Draco. Through tears, she gently rubbed the potion on his wounds, and Draco grimaced, although tears came out of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Ginny whispered as his wounds began to close and, once they were healed completely, she put a Cleaning Charm upon her hands and held him against her.

Draco wrapped his arms around her hands and leaned back, shuddering from the sensation of his skin closing and healing. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Ginny gently pressed her lips to Draco’s temple. “Of course,” she whispered back.

“Marry me, Ginny Weasley,” Draco said quietly, and Ron’s jaw tightened at the question, and Harry and Hermione immediately moved to hold him back.

Ginny let out a soft chuckle and pulled him closer. “Once you ask my father for his blessing and propose properly on bended knee, Draco Malfoy, my answer is yes,” she said, and Draco gave a small smile, pleased with that.

~*~

Lucius Malfoy’s arrest was plastered all over _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_ , and Hermione began brewing various potions laced with protective draughts so as Draco would constantly be safe from the Slytherins who wished to do him harm. Madam Pomfrey checked over the wounds on his back that Ginny had tended to, and informed the young witch that she would make an excellent healer, and promptly offered her an apprenticeship. Ron agreed that Ginny’s career choice was a good one, and made sure that she would have time for Quidditch, while Hermione devised an appropriate study schedule on her behalf.

Dumbledore provided a Portkey for Draco and Ginny on the final day of January to take to the Ministry of Magic in London, so as Draco could provide testimony against his father before the Wizengamot. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody met them at the ministry, and stood on guard on their behalf throughout the proceedings. Everyone in the gallery who was supporting Draco in his time of peril gave scathing looks to Lucius Malfoy, and it didn’t surprise them that no character witnesses came forward; likely because they were Death Eaters themselves, and also because Narcissa likely couldn’t face her own son in court. Once the pair of them returned to Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione listened to their tearful accounts of the day, and how Lucius had almost immediately been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

The first couple of weeks of February were uneventful, until Harry was told by Dumbledore to put another phase of the plan with Slughorn in motion. He waited until transfiguration was over and had a free period, when he used to have Quidditch practice during the day, and went down to the potions classroom. The potions professor was just finishing up with a class of first-years, and Harry marveled at how natural the man acted with very young children.

“Ah, well if it isn’t the Prince of Potions himself?” the man asked, spotting Harry as he moved to clean up the classroom.

“I think you overestimate my abilities, sir,” Harry replied with a chuckle.

“Oh, I think not, my boy, I think not,” Slughorn replied with a twitter, as he gathered up some parchment for marking. “What brings you here, then?”

Harry swallowed, knowing that he had to act, and quickly. “Well, I wanted to speak to you, sir, about a rather odd piece of rare magic that I came across,” he said quickly.

Slughorn looked a little confused at the statement. “Yes? Go on,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Well, I was in the library the other night, in the Restricted Section,” Harry continued, knowing full well that the man could react in a plethora of different ways, “and I was wondering, sir, are there kinds of magic you’re not allowed to teach us?”

Slughorn looked taken aback, but appeared resolved to continue the discussion. “If it was in the Restricted Section, my boy, perhaps you should consult with Professor Lupin about this, as he is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor...”

Harry let out an easy chuckle. “I’m afraid he’d just go running to my godfather about it, sir,” he told him, which was a perfectly plausible answer. “They’re both like fathers to me, as a matter of fact, and so it could be a bit awkward.”

Slughorn sighed. “Very well, then. What was this magic, then?”

“Well, I don’t exactly remember the name, sir, but it was Dark,” he said, taking a chance, knowing that it was make it or break it at this point.

Slughorn turned around very slowly then, his eyes suddenly taking on a new meaning. “Did someone put you up to this?”

Harry swallowed. “Sir...”

“No!” he shouted, his demons likely reaching out and clawing at him. “Dumbledore put you up to this, didn’t he?” he demanded, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he finally understood what the topic of discussion truly was. “Didn’t he?!”

Harry swallowed, standing there, too stunned to speak, and watched as Slughorn immediately gathered the rest of his things and left the classroom. Stumbling out of there too quickly, he got that lightheaded feeling in his head again, and decided it best to go to Gryffindor Tower. He had Professor Flitwick afterwards, and it was his final class of the day, so he decided to let Hermione know that he wasn’t feeling well enough to attend charms, and hoped beyond hope that she would consent to giving him her notes.

Harry climbed the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, and the fat lady let him inside with an arch of her eyebrow. Immediately, he climbed the stairs towards the sixth-year boys’ dorm and let himself in, collapsing on his bed as he broke out into a cold sweat. “Dobby,” he managed to get out, and the house-elf appeared.

“Great Master Harry Potter sir!” he squeaked. “Are you all right?”

Harry cleared his throat and managed to sit up, although his head was swimming. “I’ll be fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “Could you deliver two messages to me?”

“Dobby can do that, great Master Harry Potter sir!”

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” he replied. “Please tell Headmaster Dumbledore that the situation with the slugs didn’t work out.”

The house-elf looked confused but nodded. “Dobby can tell him, sir,” he said, his ears flapping for a moment. “What other message can Dobby deliver for great Master Harry Potter?”

“Please tell Hermione that I’m feeling tired, and won’t be able to make charms today,” he said, knowing that the direct approach was probably best.

“Is great Master Harry Potter ill?” the elf squeaked. “Does Master Harry Potter need a potion, or to see Madam Pomfrey?”

“No thanks, Dobby, I’ll be fine,” Harry told him, the last thing he wanted was to be made a fuss over by the Hogwarts matron, who always meant well, but always seemed to find something wrong with him and, after Slughorn’s upset, he really didn’t want to deal with that.

Dobby sighed, his little shoulders deflating. “All right,” he said. “Dobby will tell Headmaster Dumbles and Mistress Hermione,” he said quickly, before snapping his fingers, and was quickly gone from the sixth-year boys’ dorm.

Harry’s eyes grew heavy and he slipped into an uneasy sleep, only coming out of it to accept Hermione’s notes, and vomit a few times at the lamb stew that Ron had brought him from the Great Hall for dinner. The following day was the second Hogsmeade trip since second-term began, and, although invited, Harry declined the offer of going. Ron and Hermione were going to Madam Puddifoot’s to celebrate their one-year anniversary, while Draco and Ginny, plus Neville and Luna, were going on a double date there for Valentine’s weekend.

Shaking his head, Harry relished the fact that the dormitory was empty and silent for a change as he pulled the curtains of his bed tightly shut. As he lay there in the darkness, he thought of the tea shop in Hogsmeade, which was the haunt of happy couples. Rolling his eyes and attempting to fall back asleep, there was yet another feeling of queasiness from within him, and Harry had no idea when it would stop.

~*~

Harry was feeling better by the next weekend and, since he was able to complete his missed charms assignment already, he was all caught up on necessary work. After having a lie-in and going down for lunch, he felt pleased that he could keep a couple of sandwiches and chips down, as well as three large glasses of pumpkin juice. Hermione said nothing, and just seemed pleased that Harry was eating again and not being sick.

“What do you have planned for today, Harry?” she asked.

“I’m going down to Hagrid’s,” Harry replied.

“Sounds fun, mate,” Ron said, his mouth full with fish and chips.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald,” she muttered.

“Want some company, Harry?” Ginny asked, after having swallowed a bite of her roasted vegetable salad with stilton cheese.

Draco nodded, lowering his fork with meatloaf upon it. “That does sound fun.”

“If you want us there, we’ll come,” Hermione said brightly, after having swallowed a bite of her chicken curry.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sounds great,” he replied.

Once they’d all finished their lunch, Hermione insisted on summoning some warmer outer layers and such from their respective bedrooms, and Ginny got on board with the plan rather quickly, while Harry, Ron, and Draco rolled their eyes. However, they were soon swathed in an abundance of layers between them and left the Entrance Hall out the front doors and made their way through the stone garden and down the slope of the hill towards the hut. Its chimney was belching smoke, leading Harry to believe that it would be quite warm inside there, and he trekked slightly ahead of the group to knock on the door.

“’Arry!” Hagrid said, obviously pleased to see him once he’d opened up. “Ah, Ron, ‘Ermione, Ginny, and... Malfoy?” he asked, slightly taken aback.

Draco, after Ginny squeezed his similarly gloved hand, stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath his winter boots, and put out his hand in a tentative manner. “I was blinded by the hate that my parents instilled upon me, and I’ll never forgive myself for my spoiled and reprehensible attitude towards you, sir,” he said, his voice rippling with sincerity. “Please, accept my forgiveness for my behavior in years past.”

Hagrid looked down at his hand for a moment before looking behind Draco and gazing at Ginny for a moment. “You love ‘im?” he asked her.

Ginny nodded. “More than anything, Hagrid,” she replied.

Hagrid nodded and looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “And you lot trust ‘im, then?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Yes, Hagrid, we do,” Hermione assured him.

“All righ’,” he replied, before reaching down and taking Draco’s hand and shaking it. “Welcome to me ‘ome, Draco,” he said, and stepped back, permitting the five of them inside. “Ah, Fang,” he said as the hound made himself known.

“Hello, there!” Draco crowed, stepping forward and Fang, momentarily taken aback, stepped forward and lowered his head for Draco to pet.

“’E’s taken ‘er shine to yer,” Hagrid said approvingly, bustling around his tiny kitchen with massive appliances, as he proceeded to fill gigantic cups of tea. “Sit dow’, all of yer,” he said charismatically, and the five teens quickly moved to do so, while Hagrid brought their cups of tea towards the table. “I also made some of me famous Rock Cakes,” he declared, setting down an over-large platter in the center of the table.

Harry suddenly felt ravenous again and bent forward, cramming one of the hard cakes into his mouth and chewing, barely aware of the scraping sensation upon his teeth. He didn’t even notice Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco’s aghast expressions, but was a bit aware of Hagrid’s rather indulgent chuckles his way. Hagrid said something about growing boys being hungry, which Ron and Draco allowed, but Hermione and Ginny remained skeptical.

They spoke about the curse afflicting Katie Bell and Draco’s part in all of it, with Hagrid saying how much he admired Draco’s courage for standing up to the Dark. He asked about the trial at the Wizengamot, and Draco and Ginny recounted what had happened in great detail. Hagrid casually expressed his dislike of Lucius Malfoy, and Draco nearly choked on his tea in a moment of laughter, before informing Hagrid that he shared his opinion.

When the sun slowly began to set over the tops of the trees, Hagrid mentioned that they should be getting back to the castle, and they all agreed. They said a lengthy goodbye to the giant, and it surprised them all when Draco asked if he could come back, especially to see Fang. Hagrid, who was touched, immediately agreed, saying that Draco would always be welcome.

“I just can’t believe you were going to mad over the Rock Cakes, Harry,” Hermione observed as they walked back up the hill towards the castle.

“Yes, even Ron doesn’t like them,” Ginny put in, wrinkling her nose.

“Hagrid said it himself,” Ron said, putting an arm around Hermione’s waist as Draco did the same to Ginny.

“Yes. Harry is a growing boy,” Draco replied, smirking.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but nevertheless knew when to drop a subject. “I was invited to Professor Lupin’s tonight,” she said softly. “Do you want to come?”

Harry turned and regarded Draco for a moment before he nodded. “He likes you,” he told Draco with a smile. “It’ll be nice to have you there while we help him.”

Draco nodded. “Sounds great,” he replied.

“Dobby brings us dinner while Hermione summons our things from the dormitory so that we can read or study during the transformation,” Ron said quietly.

Draco nodded solemnly. “I just feel so bad that he has to go through all that,” he said quietly. “I remember Lucius telling me that if I ever defected from the Dark, I’d be as good as dead, as he would give me to Greyback,” he said, and Ginny immediately cuddled closer to him.

Harry felt a lump developing in his throat at this latest confession, knowing then that Lucius Malfoy was exactly where he belonged. As the two couples walked into the castle, Harry looked at them all and hesitated for a moment, turning around. Somewhere, he knew, over the tops of the trees and past the Hogwarts Lake and beyond, Severus was out there, the man he truly loved, and all Harry wanted was to be with him for always.

~*~

“It’s been _six days_ since we saw to Lupin, and she’s barely spoken to me!” Draco wailed, and threw himself down upon the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

“That’s a bit shocking,” Ron said, barely glancing at his transfiguration essay, which was due in three days, and he’d barely started it.

Hermione elbowed Ron from where she was bent over her assignment for Ancient Runes, and didn’t look up. “Draco, you know very well that Ginny has plenty of excuses not to speak to you for an extended period of time,” she said patiently.

Draco muttered something incoherent under his breath. “I know that she has her OWLs to study for, and that she’s got Quidditch... But ever since she’s accepted this apprenticeship from Madam Pomfrey, I never see her anymore...”

Harry sighed, knowing what it was like not to have routine communication with someone that you loved, although six days and almost three months were two entirely different things. “Well, have you considered what to do once you’ve taken your NEWTs?”

Draco’s blond brows suddenly knitted together then as he turned to face Harry, confusion riddling his expression. “What?”

“Well, after you’ve gotten your NEWTs, you’ll have to pick something to do,” Harry told him simply. “Unless I kill snake-face quickly, you’re not going to be reinstated into the Malfoy family fortune for a while, so you’ll have to get a job.”

Draco straightened up on the couch then, and shook his head. “I... I never considered that,” he admitted, truly surprised.

“It would do you some good,” Hermione said quietly.

Draco gave a small nod. “I suppose so...”

Harry worried his lower lip and shut his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , which they had to write an essay on for Care of Magical Creatures. “Well, have you considered what you’re good at?”

Draco smirked, crossing his arms. “Other than my looks?”

Ron pointedly kicked Draco in the shin. “Not right after dinner, please,” he said, now looking at his essay in an attempt to write some.

Draco made a face at Ron before he turned back to Harry. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m decent at potions,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Perhaps you could make potions for St. Mungo’s,” Harry said softly. “Their Wolfsbane isn’t as potent as the kind Remus used to get. Perhaps you could improve their stock.”

A smile spread on Draco’s lips. “You think I could?”

Harry nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Perhaps consult with Madam Pince in the library, Draco, about proper literature to refer to for potion making for a hospital setting,” Hermione put in, still gazing down at her paper for Ancient Runes, little to no patience for the Slytherin.

Draco nodded, suddenly eager. “I will. I will! I’m going to go and ask her now!” he crowed, and gathered up his things, before flying out of the common room.

Ron took the opportunity to look up at Harry. “I think we’ve created a monster.”

Harry grinned back at him. “As long as he’s not working for snake-face,” he replied, and Ron gave a nod, before they all turned back to their assignments.

~*~

March had dawned, which meant that spring was officially on the horizon, and Harry knew that Dumbledore was growing anxious about Harry obtaining Slughorn’s memory. Going for broke a week before winter was due to end, Harry journeyed to the man’s private rooms and knocked. He waited for a moment until the little flap upon the door opened, and the man stared at him, a tortured look entering his eyes.

“Please, sir,” Harry said, “I just want to talk.”

Slughorn sighed and shut the flap, but nevertheless unlocked the door and permitted Harry to come inside the classroom. He stood as far back from him as he could as he shut the door behind him, and looked nervous, before walking over to his stuffed armchair over beside the fireplace of his inner rooms. “Well, what is it?” he asked, staring into the embers of the fire.

Harry sighed, and perched upon a couch nearby without permission, but when the man didn’t call attention to it, Harry assumed it was all right. “I wanted to tell you about my past,” he said quietly, and the man’s gaze turned towards him. “As you know, my parents were murdered by Voldemort—”

“Don’t say his name,” Slughorn begged.

“I’m not afraid of the name, professor,” Harry countered, but returned to his story. “After their deaths, their will was read, and they’d agreed that my godfather, Sirius Black, would be given guardianship of me. However, Sirius was branded a murderer by Peter Pettigrew, and so he was locked up in Azkaban for twelve years.”

Slughorn gave a shallow nod. “Yes, I know of this.”

“I would have, naturally, then been given to my other godfather, Remus Lupin, but he’s not seen as a proper human by the Wizengamot, nor was he in the financial position to take on a toddler, so he was passed over for guardianship as well,” Harry said, his tone quiet. “I didn’t have a godmother, for whatever reason, and so that option was excluded as well, and by the time my parents were gone, so were both sets of grandparents.”

“The Muggle side of your family took you, then?” Slughorn asked.

Harry nodded, thinking it natural that Slughorn would know that his mum had had a sister. “Begrudgingly, but yes, as Dumbledore left me on their doorstep,” he said quietly, and lowered his eyes, wondering how he managed to live through the night, wrapped only in a blanket, in the late-autumn, and deduced that Warming Charms had been utilized. “I was put into the care of my mum’s older sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon. They had a son called Dudley, a little more than a month older than me, and, on paper at the very least, were considered upstanding enough to take in another child.”

“What happened?” Slughorn whispered.

“I was made to live in a cupboard from the moment I took up residence there,” Harry said softly, and Slughorn shut his eyes. “Uncle Vernon would beat me with his belt if I ever did something remotely ‘wrong’, while Aunt Petunia worked me as a house-elf from the age of two. Cleaning the house from top to bottom with various tasks per day, not to mention yardwork, which I really didn’t mind, and actually enjoyed, because then I could see the sky.” He hesitated. “Cooking was another thing I was made to do, unless they were having a dinner party for clients, or Aunt Marge was coming, in which Aunt Petunia would cook on either occasion, but I was still made to clean up afterwards. And, as for eating, I would be lucky if I got their scraps, as they didn’t think a freak like me deserved regular sustenance.”

“They beat and starved you, then?” Slughorn asked, his voice a shred of a whisper.

“Yes,” Harry told him with a solemn nod. “The beatings were frequently for things that Dudley had done, and that I had nothing to do with. They would always overlook these things, for even in scenarios that it would have been impossible for me to have committed the supposed crime, I was always the guilty party.”

Slughorn shuddered. “I am so sorry for that, Harry.”

“I know what happened to you, sir, and why you don’t wish to discuss _him_ ,” Harry said, and the man’s eyes snapped open.

“How do you...?”

“Dumbledore’s orders,” he said, and the man deflated further in his chair. “I saw it as an invasion of privacy, sir, and I wish I could take it back, but I cannot. And, sir, this memory can preserve our way of life, and potentially defeat him.”

Slughorn sighed then, his fingers knitting themselves together. “Everyone would hate me, once the truth comes out...”

“The truth is that he manipulated and forced you into something you clearly didn’t want,” Harry told him, his voice firm. “If anything, you are the survivor here, and naught to blame, while he is entirely at fault here.”

Slughorn reached into the sleeve of his periwinkle robe then, and drew out his wand, flicking it slightly, and a small, glass phial sailed across the room and into his hand. “Do forgive me, Harry,” he said softly, before pressing the tip of his wand to his temple, and extracting the curled wisp of a memory, which he put into the vial. He summoned a cork and capped the phial, before banishing it towards Harry. “I... I would like to be alone, I think...”

Harry nodded, holding the phial to his chest. “Of course, sir,” he said, and slowly got to his feet, although he did so unsteadily. “Thank you, sir,” he managed to get out, and hastily made his way towards the door, letting himself out into the corridor. He made his way directly to the tower where Dumbledore slept and kept his office, saying the password, “Ice Mice”, and was instantly allowed entrance. “Sir,” he said, stepping in.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked, getting to his feet.

Harry held out the phial to him. “I’ve got it,” he said, his voice trembling. “Slughorn’s given me his memory of that night.”

Dumbledore looked amazed. “Did he give it willingly?”

Harry gave a stiff nod as the man took the phial from him. “Yes,” he replied, “although he did request to be alone afterwards, and was clearly distraught...”

The headmaster nodded, and hastily sent his phoenix Patronus to Madam Pomfrey, asking her to check on the potions professor, before he strode over to his pensieve, motioning for Harry to stand beside him. Dumbledore uncorked the phial and poured its contents into the murky depths of the pensieve and leaned forward, just as Harry did so as well. Harry and Dumbledore found themselves back in the moment with a young Riddle and Slughorn, right from the moment where Riddle identified the Dark object he’d read about.

“It’s called, as I understand it, a Horcrux,” Riddle said softly.

“I... I beg your pardon?” Slughorn asked, his tone faltering.

“A Horcrux, sir,” Riddle said patiently. “The book didn’t say how one would make them,” he continued, now facing the fire and stroking the ring they wore.

“I think you’ve already deduced how, Tom,” Slughorn replied.

“Murder,” Riddle replied, the word sounding light upon his tongue. “Can you explain them to me, then, professor?”

“One preserves a portion of their soul within an object, which could be anything, but likely will hold sentimental value for the murderer themselves. In an essence, this means that the person can never die,” Slughorn whispered.

Riddle’s brow furrowed then. “But, surely, one person cannot be limited to just making one, can they? Surely, suppose seven...”

“ _Seven_?” Slughorn asked, his eyes filled with pain. “Merlin’s beard, Tom, surely committing murder once is not something one would want to do willingly...” He shook his head for a moment, in an attempt to clear it. “This is all hypothetical, of course, isn’t it? All academic?” he asked, almost as if he was reassuring himself.

Riddle promptly turned back to the man, and nodded shallowly at him. “Of course, sir,” he said, but Slughorn saw something in his eyes that he didn’t like. “It’ll be our little secret,” he assured him, smirking at the man.

The pensive took that opportunity to shove Dumbledore and Harry from within its murky depths, and they stumbled backwards into the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore looked amazed at such a development, and Harry was immediately thinking of these Horcruxes, wondering how it had taken so long to discover the information.

“Sentimental value,” Harry whispered, and the blue eyes of the headmaster, not twinkling at this moment, turned to look at him. “I... I know where one is,” he whispered.

Dumbledore nodded. “Where?”

“Grimmauld Place,” Harry replied, “in the Black family china cabinet.”

Dumbledore nodded. “What is it?”

“A locket,” he replied immediately. “I have to walk by the cabinet whenever we eat in the formal dining room. I thought I was going mad, but it’s always whispering, like it’s calling out to me, but it’s in Parseltongue,” he said, the detail having slipping his mind until that moment.

Dumbledore nodded. “Very good, Harry,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll summon Sirius with the locket immediately... Why don’t you have an early night? You look exhausted,” the man put in.

Harry swallowed, but nevertheless nodded, and left the Headmaster’s Tower to go to the common room alone.

~*~

It was the penultimate Sunday in March when the full moon came again, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny found themselves in the inner rooms of Remus Lupin. Ginny and Draco were speaking softly to one another, while Harry was reading ahead in charms, and Ron was waiting for Hermione to return from the loo. At least, that was what the seventeen-year-old witch said she was doing, but when she returned, she appeared via the bedroom door of Remus, and casted the Portal Spell effortlessly, before returning to Ron’s lap.

“‘Mione?” Ron asked.

Hermione, who was reading about arithmancy, immediately looked up at her boyfriend. “Yes, Ron?” she asked.

Ron swallowed. “Should I be worried?”

She blinked. “About what?”

Ron sighed. “You were coming out of Remus’s bedroom...”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I was giving him his potion.”

Ron looked surprised at the declaration. “He gets his potion from St. Mungo’s...”

Hermione worried her lower lip for a moment. “It was ineffective at best, Ron, and it was just beginning to hurt him to transform,” she said quietly.

Harry blinked, getting in on the conversation. “It was hurting him?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Harry shook his head. “Merlin, Remus never told me that...”

“And why do you suppose that is, Harry?” Ginny asked, joining in on the conversation as she leaned into Draco’s arms. “You’ve got quite a bit on your plate right now.”

“Couldn’t imagine your social calendar continuing to be so full, especially after you gave up playing Quidditch,” Draco said quietly.

Harry sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he replied, and his gaze immediately snapped back towards Hermione. “But, wait a moment. Do you mean to tell me that you...?”

“Did you make Remus’s Wolfsbane, Hermione?” Ron demanded.

Hermione nodded. “I did, Ron.”

Ron shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, I remembered what it was like with Viktor and McLaggen, and I didn’t want you to think that you had anything to worry about, because you don’t! I love you, Ron, and I didn’t want to...”

Ron silenced Hermione then with an almighty snog, causing her to squeal in surprise at the physical contact. Once he was finished, he gently lifted her by her waist and placed her gently upon the ground, whereupon he went to one knee and said, “I may have had the emotional range of a teaspoon at one time, Hermione, but it gave me the wake-up call I truly needed, to be a man worthy of your affections. Hermione Jean Granger, once you and I graduate Hogwarts with all our NEWTs, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Hermione let out a gasp then, her beautiful brown eyes suddenly overflowing with tears. “Yes, Ron, yes,” she breathed, and yanked him upwards, clutching at his face, and kissed him over and over again.

Ginny and Draco promptly surrounded them both, Ginny proclaiming how overjoyed she was to have another sister in the family, and Draco to congratulate Ron. Harry got to his feet and patted Ron on the back and hugged Hermione, and although he was truly happy for his best friends, he found that even their happiness could not assuage the ache, lodged deep within his own heart, with no hope of ever being unbroken.

~*~

Eight days later, after the full moon and Ron’s impromptu proposal to Hermione, Harry was told that Sirius would be coming to the castle. He met Sirius at the gates and, to his surprise, he allowed the man to hold him for a moment. He was feeling utterly desolate due to his separation from Severus, so he was taking all the affection he could get. Harry then went upstairs to Dumbledore’s office, where he met with Remus and the headmaster, along with Hermione, where they were bent over the headmaster’s desk, gazing at various books that Hermione had procured from the Restricted Section.

“Hello, Sirius!” Hermione cried, bouncing up and hugging him.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Hermione,” he said, and smiled at the beautiful pink diamond upon her ring finger.

Hermione flushed becomingly and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Apparently, it was buried in the back of the Weasley vault at Gringotts, and Arthur wanted me to have it,” she replied. “It was quite a shock when Ron asked me, but then he pulled out this ring once we were alone together later that night, and I, of course, said yes.”

“Perhaps marriage has some merit after all,” Sirius said softly.

Remus immediately turned and regarded his best friend. “What are you up to?” he asked, a knowing look in his dark eyes.

Sirius grinned at him. “Nothing serious yet,” he declared, and Remus raised an eyebrow. “I’ll let you know what it does become so, if it does. She’s a bit younger,” he admitted, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“How young?” he asked.

“Three years younger than Tonks,” he admitted.

Remus rolled his eyes. “You are a dog, aren’t you?” he joked.

“All right, my boys,” Dumbledore said, smiling at both of them, but nevertheless raising up his hands to call for silence. “The time for jokes is over. Sirius, I take it you’ve brought what I asked for?” he wanted to know.

Sirius nodded, reaching into the pocket of his outer robes and drawing out a black velvet box, which he set carefully onto the table. “Hermione, thank you for the Protective Enchantments that can be used for traveling great distances via Apparition,” Sirius told her.

Hermione gave him a nod. “Of course, Sirius.”

“Fifteen points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for your work in charms,” Dumbledore said, and opened the box with a flick of his wand.

Harry stiffened, hearing the disembodied voices of Parseltongue in his ear, while everyone else seemed none the wiser. He stepped forward then, while everyone else was speaking, and found himself reaching out towards the bauble, despite the dangers. As he did so, something sparked from within it, sending Harry flying backwards and into the wall, where he momentarily heard a crack before everything went black.

He smelled the sterility of a new environment around him when he came to, and, although his eyes were heavy, he managed to open them slowly. He let out a soft groan of protest at the bump upon the back of his head, and this alerted the mediwitch, who came forward, a grave look in her eyes. “What happened, Madam Pomfrey?” he asked.

The matron sighed. “You’ve sustained quite a head injury, Mr. Potter. It has developed into a mild concussion, but nothing serious,” she assured him.

Harry nodded, managing to sit up slightly, ignoring the swimming in his head, but nodding his thanks when Madam Pomfrey fluffed at his bolsters. “That’s a relief,” he said softly.

She sighed, looking torn. “You’re not out of the woods yet, I’m afraid, young man.”

Harry blinked. “I’m not?”

“No,” she told him, and hesitated for a moment. “Harry, have you been feeling dizzy, or nauseated lately? Or have you thrown up more than usual?”

Harry blinked a second time, but nodded. “Yes. Twice significantly. I vomited during the Christmas holidays—thought it was the goose, because I’d never had it before—and just recently when I was feeling tired and ate some lamb stew. I’m not really familiar with either protein, so I just thought that they didn’t agree with me...”

The matron sighed and shook her head. “That may be the case, Harry... Have you also been feeling overtly affectionate or standoffish, or particularly hungry, sometimes for one specific thing?” she queried.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I even ate Hagrid’s Rock Cakes a few weeks ago,” he remarked, still shocked that he’d done that on a relatively full stomach.

“I performed a Diagnostic Spell once you were admitted here, Harry, in the wake of your head injury in the headmaster’s office,” the woman said quietly. “It appears as if there is a reason for all these symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”

“I’m stressed,” Harry said plainly, “clearly. There _is_ the matter of that serpentine madman being after me...”

“It’s not stress, Harry, or not just that,” the woman said, clearly wanting to get this next bit of information off her chest. “Harry, you’re pregnant,” she said, and Harry felt his jaw drop then, and found that he was rendered utterly speechless.


	18. Fall About Your Ears

_Harry, you’re pregnant_.

Those words had stuck with Harry for the next five days, as he did his best to continue to sleep, eat, do his school work, and pay attention in class. All things seemed to be difficult now, and he constantly had to adhere to the notes that the matron had given him—hidden in the sleeves of his robes—to pay attention to what he could and could not do, given his condition. Madam Pomfrey had considerately agreed to send a note to Professor Slughorn—who was surprisingly accommodating towards Harry in the matter—for Harry to spend his hours for potions, from then until the end of the year, doing independent research assignments in the library, as there were just one too many things that Harry could do, inhale, or be around, that would be damaging to the baby.

Harry had been told of his pregnancy on Monday, and he was also told by Madam Pomfrey that, due to the length he was presenting, he was likely a bit over five months. Due to the exercise that he was putting himself through—which Madam Pomfrey approved, although she did say that flying was now out, although walks around the grounds were just fine—he wasn’t displaying as much girth as a woman would. Of course, it also had to do with the fact that he was male, and would not, therefore, present the same symptoms as any pregnant woman. He was told that he would need to see Madam Pomfrey at least once a week, for it was a high-risk pregnancy for two reasons—one, he was only sixteen, and two, he was a male.

When Saturday dawned, Harry permitted himself to have a lie-in, and waited until Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville had left the sixth-year Gryffindor boys’ dorm before he arose. He took a lengthy shower, the knots in his back considerably diminishing due to the pressure of the hot water, and stepped back out into his bedroom to dress himself. He decided to have Dobby bring him something to eat, as he didn’t want to have to brave the Great Hall, now that he was on a strict diet, due to the pregnancy.

“Dobby?” he called.

Dobby popped into view and dashed about Harry’s legs, throwing his arms around him with an almighty squeak. “Great Master Harry Potter sir is to have a baby!” he crowed.

Harry sighed. “Madam Pomfrey tell you that?”

Dobby nodded, pulling back from Harry and flapping his ears with excitement. “Yes, but only because Dobby is Master Harry Potter’s elf,” he said quickly. “Dobby was told not to tell anybody else, and Dobby won’t, sir, Dobby won’t!”

Harry smiled, crossing the room and investigating his trunk for something to wear that day. “I know, Dobby,” he assured him, settling on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a jumper. “I was wondering if Madam Pomfrey went over with you what I wasn’t allowed to eat...”

“Dobby knows!” the house-elf said. “Madam Pomfrey told Dobby that Master Harry Potter must stay away from most fish, raw, processed, or undercooked meat, raw eggs, organ meat, caffeine, unpasteurized dairy products, and alcohol,” he informed his master.

“Can you bring me some eggs and toast for breakfast, Dobby?” Harry asked, turning around halfway to look at the elf. “I want to eat quickly. I have to get to the library and do some research about all this.”

“Dobby understands, sir,” the house-elf said quickly, his ears flapping again as he nodded his head profusely. “Dobby will be right back!”

Harry waited until Dobby had cracked away, before he threw his flannel into the laundry, and dressed himself quickly. He then sat on his bed and _Accio_ ’d the Marauder’s Map, which he intended to use upon his journey to the library, not wanting to potentially run into Hermione and answer an overabundance of questions. He knew he would have to tell Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco at some point—as well as Neville, Luna, Sirius, and Remus, not to mention Severus—but he knew he would reveal the information in his own time.

Dobby appeared with another crack a moment later, with the eggs and toast on one plate, and a generous glass of pumpkin juice. “Madam Pomfrey told Dobby that great Master Harry Potter sir can still have his favorite drink while pregnant!”

Harry chuckled, levitating his breakfast on top of his trunk. “Thank you, Dobby,” he said, taking ahold of the glass and sipping it, relieved when he didn’t sick up all over the elf. “I’ll call you again if I don’t want to go to the Great Hall for lunch.”

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping once more, before he disappeared again.

Harry ate his breakfast and drank his juice quickly, his dishes disappearing to return to the kitchens to be washed as soon as he’d finished. He then crossed over to the loo to wash his hands, and looked at himself in the provided mirror above the sink. Standing back once he had dried his hands, he saw that there was a distinct curvature to his stomach, now that he was properly looking at it, and smiled slightly then, gently drawing his fingers and palms along it. He then made his way back into the bedroom and made a grab for the map, before he headed out of there and down the stairs, before exiting the portrait of the fat lady and walking towards the library, which he hoped to be close to empty.

_“There are other options, if you’re not ready, Harry,” came the matron’s words in his mind as he walked._

_“Such as?” Harry had asked, his fingers tangling themselves up in the hospital wings’ blanket and duvet set._

_“Well, adoption is quite common in the Wizarding World,” Madam Pomfrey told him gently, and Harry knew that she would agree with whatever he wanted._

_Harry shook his head. “No. I could never do that...”_

_The matron nodded at him. “Well, I should be the first to inform you that termination is not an option,” she told him softly._

_“Why? Because I’ll die?” Harry snapped._

_“No, no, dear, of course not,” Madam Pomfrey said quickly. “There were legends and myths through the years within the Wizarding World that pregnancy was tied to your magical core and, therefore, termination would kill both the child and the bearer. That was just the church and religious zealots talking, dear, so as to prevent terminations, as well as to publicly shame the bearers, if they were not married while going through a pregnancy.”_

_“So, why isn’t it an option, then?”_

_“Because you are too far along,” Madam Pomfrey told him. “You conceived this child at the end of October,” she went on, and Harry shut his eyes, knowing that it had to have happened at the inn in Godric’s Hollow. “Why, dear? Is a termination something you would want?”_

_“No, no, it’s not that,” Harry assured her. “I don’t want one at all,” he said softly, and slowly opened his eyes. “I just wanted to know all the information. I’m tired of people keeping things from me, you know?”_

_Madam Pomfrey nodded. “Of course I know, dear,” she said quietly._

Harry made his way into the library, unknowing how he was ever going to find information about pregnancies within the Wizarding World, when he had thought, up until Monday afternoon, that only women could conceive. Now, he knew that men—at least in the world he called home—could have children, and the thought was just enough to shock him completely to the core. Now that he had a few days to process the information, however, he was finally ready to read as much as he could about the subject.

Harry entered the library, pocketing the map as he went—as none of his friends were lurking in between the bookcases or at the scattered tables—and nodded to Madam Pince. The librarian nodded back to him as he drifted through the bookshelves, hoping beyond hope to find something on offer that would be of use to him. When he finally got to a section called _Lifestyle_ , he thought it could be a plausible place to start, and so he ventured forward, gazing at the various titles of the tomes, hoping that he wouldn’t have to venture out to Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmeade or Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley for a new book altogether, as he really didn’t want Hedwig to be separated from Galentine.

Harry’s jaw dropped then at one of the titles— _Pregnancies in Wizards_ —and immediately pulled it off from the shelf. It was written by someone named Irving Magnolis and Aria Cross, and it appeared to have been published during the Second World War. Harry bit his lip and looked around; a nearby book was called _Quarrels in Quidditch_ by Prudence Hornette, and Harry, taking a gamble, transfigured the books, so that he appeared to be holding the Quidditch book and not the one about wizarding pregnancies. He also did the inside title pages for good measure, knowing that the librarian would have to give her literal stamp of approval for him checking out the book. He then brought it up to her desk, but Madam Pince was busily polishing that gilded spell book he had seen her polishing back in second-year, so she barely glanced at him or the book he wanted to take out, and merely motioned for him to sign his name in the indicated spot.

Harry thanked her, and she gave him a nod mid-polish, and Harry strode out of the library and shrunk down the book, just in case. He got the map out from his pocket and immediately went towards the Room of Requirement, knowing that the room would seal its door to prevent Harry from being disturbed while he read this book. Once he got up to the correct floor, he thought of a place to read his book in safety without interruption, and the door presented itself to him out of the stone wall. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door, which quickly closed behind him as he stepped inside.

Harry’s eyes prickled then, as he was standing in an exact replica of the front room of Severus’s suite in that godforsaken inn at Godric’s Hollow. He shook his head, pleased to see that the fire was built up and roaring, and stepped further into the room, and sank gratefully down upon the provided couch, and took up the book in his lap. With a soft, “ _Finite_ ,” the book returned to that of _Pregnancies in Wizards_ , and he immediately opened it up to inspect its rather lengthy and detailed Table of Contents.

He disregarded the chapter on _Conception_ , as he knew full well what it was, given that he had found himself in this tricky situation in the first place. He did decide, however, to look into the chapter which reportedly detailed the pregnancy itself, and turned to look.

“ _Should the wizard currently in the state of pregnancy exercise regularly, then he himself will not experience the typical bulge in the pelvic area that witches, Squib and Muggle women do and will frequently complain about. The pregnancy will face more towards the back of the male body, as male pregnancies are found to be the direct opposite of female ones. When birth comes for the wizard, what’s known as a cesarean or C-section is, in actuality, the only way in which the child can be born. There were once rumors of a potion that could literally give the pregnant male the body parts of a woman, but these seem to have been merely myth, much like the legend that a magical individual will die if the pregnancy is terminated, which was rumored to be connected to the magical core completely. Although the fetus sustains its life from the magical core—in the case of witch and wizard pregnancies—only by the time the fetus is twelve weeks or more, such as in Muggle women, will this be completely the case. ‘Fetus’ is the appropriate term until twelve weeks gestation, and then the term ‘baby’ can be used for the duration of the pregnancy if the bearer does not wish to know the sex. Then, the bearer themselves usually refers to their unborn child by their selected given name._ ”

“I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said softly, reaching down and caressing his belly. “Got to start thinking of a name for you, and plans of where I’m going to raise you...” He cut himself off then and sighed. Although Sirius had agreed to be supportive about his hoped-for future with Severus, Harry believed that the man wouldn’t accept a child, although it had been conceived in love...

Well, on Harry’s end at the very least.

Harry leaned back upon the couch, eyes watery with tears, and shook his head. “Whatever you are, boy or girl,” he whispered as tears traveled down his face, “I promise to always love and support you in whoever it is you come to love.”

Harry wandered down alone to Hogsmeade later that day, just to get out of his head a bit, and kept a good grip upon the map. He had also summoned his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ to take with him, in case he wanted to sit and read somewhere. The entirety of the snow that had blanketed the wizarding village for the past several weeks had finally dissipated a good fortnight before, just in time for the arrival of spring. Feeling a bit peckish, Harry ventured into The Magic Neep and selected some fresh fruit, plus had the butcher in the back of the shop make him a rather large sandwich for his lunch. He also took a packet of crisps and a fresh strawberry delight for his pudding before venturing back out of doors.

Moving over towards the Shrieking Shack and sitting down in the shade of a lone tree atop a slight mound, he sat down against it and tucked into his lunch. Caressing his stomach now and again, he was pleased that the baby—as he was over five months along, he felt confident referring to his child as such—liked the lunch. Humming to himself, he wiped off his hands with the moist towelettes he’d procured at the greengrocer’s and leaned back against the tree. The sun was warm but did not beat down upon him, thankfully, and he drew the potions book out from his pocket and opened it, thumbing through the pages.

He smirked at some of the notes whoever the Half-Blood Prince was had written, and felt less alone than he had in a long time. Although Hermione had been disparaging about the changes in recipes—which had gotten Harry repeated Outstanding’s in potions—as well as the fact that Harry supposedly “practically slept with it”, Harry had repeatedly ignored her words. Yet, despite his denials towards Hermione about what he chose to share his four-poster with, he did indeed sleep with his potions text.

“What do you think, baby?” he asked his child softly. “You think your father is anything like this Half-Blood Prince bloke?” Harry let out a short gasp then, as his child flipped around inside him for the first time, and his eyes filled with tears for the second time that day. “No, way, right? I don’t even know how he’s going to react...” Harry said, and trailed off, looking down the main street of the village, and sighing wistfully in the direction of The Three Broomsticks. “Reckon he’s in there?” he wondered aloud, to which his baby promptly kicked him. “Oi! That’s enough from you, then,” he said, and shook his head. “Personally, I don’t think he’s in there either,” he muttered, and shook his head, turning and looking out of the other way of the village, where the main track soon tapered off into the non-magical world. “I wonder where he is?” came his whispered question, as he caressed his stomach again.

~*~

Harry asked Ron to please tell Hermione, who was then informed to tell Ginny, who would then naturally tell Draco, that he wanted them to meet him in the Room of Requirement for lunch one week later. The Saturday afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows of the room that day, as Harry had considered an open concept room for the conversation that day. It reminded him of an old country house with an expansive kitchen leading off into a courtyard, which is exactly what the room provided him with that day.

Harry was sitting in the expanded nook, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, when Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco all trooped in just after lunch. Lunch was spread out upon the table around Harry, and he waved to them all to come and sit down. Hermione and Ginny looked taken back by the proclamation, but Ron and Draco didn’t need telling twice, and slipped into the booth and immediately began loading their plates. Hermione and Ginny stepped forward and joined them, although they seemed unable to take their eyes off Harry.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, once Ginny had appeared to nod at her to pose the question. “Is everything all right?”

Ginny sighed. “Why did you ask us here?” she queried.

Harry sighed, a deep sound, which caused both Ron and Draco to look up at him, and lowered their cutlery, and waited. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to tell you,” he said quietly.

“Whatever it is, mate, we’ll face it together,” Ron said.

“Exactly,” Draco affirmed, slightly thrown by the seriousness in Harry’s voice. “Just tell us. No judgement from any one of us.”

Harry wetted his lips then, knowing that he wouldn’t know what to do fully if none of his friends supported him in this, but decided that he had to be as up-front as possible. He’d sat on it long enough and had learned all he could, so now it was time to permit the dam to break and let the waters either flood or steady themselves. “I’m pregnant.”

“I know,” came the reply of Hermione and Ginny, at the exact same moment.

“You knew?!” Ron demanded, whipping around to face his sister and girlfriend.

“How could you have—?!” Draco cried out.

“I had a feeling you two knew, or had some idea about what was going on with me,” Harry said quietly, which inadvertently cut Draco off. “‘Mione’s too smart for her own good, and Gin grew up in the wizarding world, so she probably knew about all this...”

“I take it that Professor Snape is the father?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I haven’t been with anyone else.”

“Pregnancies between wizards can only be possible through two circumstances, although not always together,” Ginny said softly. “Both wizards must be extremely powerful, or they must be in love with one another.”

Harry swallowed, hating it when a lump rose in his throat. “Probably the first one,” he said, getting to his feet and walking around the room. He knew he would blame himself for his ankles swelling later, but he needed some space, what with Ginny’s declaration.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, getting to her feet and following him slowly. “What do you mean ‘probably the first one’? You seem pretty set on that.”

“I am,” Harry responded, caressing his stomach and deliberately not looking at her. “Severus isn’t in love with me.”

“What did that bloody git say to you?!” Ron demanded, leaping to his feet and moving around Harry so that he was looking at him.

Harry shook his head and lowered his eyes. “Nothing. That’s the point...”

“Wait a moment,” Draco said, slowly getting to his feet and stepping closer. “Severus is notorious for keeping his thoughts and feelings close to his chest.”

“Yes, well, he shouldn’t have to do that with me,” Harry snapped, quickly losing control on the small amount he had built up. “Who am I kidding? He probably just saw me as his own personal fuck toy...”

“Harry!” Hermione cried out.

“Think about it, ‘Mione,” Ron put in, his voice soft. “The age difference, the fact that they couldn’t tell anyone about it...”

“They couldn’t tell anyone about it because Professor Snape got sacked the moment they were found out,” Ginny put in, getting to her feet and moving to stand next to Draco.

“Be that as it may,” Draco went on, wrapping his arm around Ginny’s waist, “I don’t think you’re considering the big picture here.”

“And what is the bigger picture here, Draco?” Ron demanded, whipping around to face his only sister’s boyfriend. “The _only_ picture here is that your godfather, who is currently on the run Merlin knows where, has left Harry, pregnant, and alone—”

“He doesn’t know,” Harry whispered, staring at the floor through a veil of tears.

Hermione glared at Draco and Ron. “Don’t go fighting about sides right now,” she said firmly to the both of them, her temper nearly reaching its boiling point. “None of this is good for Harry, can’t you see that?” she whispered, and immediately moved closer to Harry, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Harry, what do you mean he doesn’t know?”

Harry took a shuddering breath, and found he couldn’t bear to look at any of them. “When Ron went with you to visit your parents, and Molly and Arthur went to Romania, and Ginny and Draco went to France, Severus sent me a Portkey to come and see him,” he whispered, his shoulders trembling as he attempted to hold his sobs in.

“Merlin, Harry, those are usually controlled by the ministry,” Hermione breathed. “That’s beyond dangerous, although it does showcase now much he wanted to see you...”

Harry nodded, a jerking movement, but still didn’t look over at her. “I took the Portkey, and it was to a safehouse somewhere—I don’t know where,” he admitted, cursing himself for not getting that information.

“Is that when you got pregnant, Harry?” Ginny asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head. “No. I got pregnant on Halloween,” he replied.

“Merlin, Snape is really pulling out all the stops to see him,” Ginny observed.

“What happened after Christmas, Harry?” Hermione asked, and finally managed to turn him around, and, with a shocked, “Oh, Harry!” he suddenly crumpled and threw himself into her arms, bending his head to sob upon her shoulder.

“I don’t know where it went wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “We made love, and it was as brilliant as it always was,” he went on, hating himself for coming so undone by this, but his weak spot had officially been tapped, and there was no way to stop it. “Afterwards, we took a bath, and I mentioned that Bill had proposed to Fleur...”

“Oh, Merlin,” Ron said quietly, having a vague idea where all of this was going.

“Severus promptly said that he didn’t see marriage a part of his future, and seemed to be pushing me away, so I got out of there, dressed, used the Portkey, and left,” he breathed, letting go of Hermione and wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn’t tell anyone, of course, and Severus hasn’t moved to contact me. I even sent him a bloody birthday gift, but...nothing...” His voice broke then, and he covered his face in his hands.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered, placing a hand upon his shoulder again.

“I love him, Hermione,” Harry whispered, slowly lifting his hands from his face as he said it. “I don’t know when it started, but I love him, and I can’t live without him. And now that there’s a child on the way, I don’t know what I’ll do...”

“Do you want it, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Of course I bloody well do!” Harry said through his tears.

“Then, what’s the problem?” Draco questioned.

“Sirius,” Harry whispered.

Ginny sighed, shaking her head. “This just keeps getting worse and worse,” she said quietly. “I mean, Sirius always has to make a jab at Snape’s expense, no matter what the situation, and can always twist it for his childish and bullying benefit.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hermione told her with a nod. “I mean, I think Sirius is an amazing person, and it’s so unfortunate that he paid a debt to society for twelve years in Azkaban when he was innocent the entire time, but that doesn’t mean he should continue treating Snape like rubbish, just because of a petty, schoolboy rivalry.”

Ron sighed, his shoulders slacking. “In this instance, I have to agree,” he admitted. “No bloke deserves to be led to his own death by anyone, especially when they’re all kids. Our age,” he said, and shook his head in revulsion.

“Do you have a plan, Harry?” Hermione wanted to know.

Harry swallowed. “Get through the rest of the year, and wait for my birthday,” he said. “Then, I’ll be of age, and I can go to Gringotts and get my hands on all the money and property my family reportedly left me.”

“You would leave Grimmauld?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “For the sake of my child, yes,” he replied. “I think Sirius would be a bit disappointed in me for getting pregnant, but he’d be outright enraged once he connects the dots and figures out who the father is.”

“You’re probably right there, mate,” Ron said quietly.

“What will you do?” Ginny wanted to know.

“Pick a property, and hopefully there’s a salvageable one,” Harry admitted. “The baby is due right before my birthday, but, hopefully, Gringotts can look over that fact, given the circumstances that I’ll be practically homeless before then...”

“Just come by the Burrow, mate,” Ron told him. “Say that you want to have some peaceful country live during your last summer before Hogwarts.”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno if that’ll work. Sirius was pretty torn up when I made some excuse not to come for Easter...”

“He came to Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s orders the next day, and saw you then...”

“I know, ‘Mione,” Harry told her, “but he also saw me faint...”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And he believed you when you said you had a stomach bug,” she told him shortly.

Harry smirked at her, his shoulders deflating as he lowered his eyes towards his stomach again and shook his head. “Guess we’ll just have to wait,” he said softly. “Something’s got to happen, hasn’t it? I wonder what it’ll be...”

~*~

Armed with Hermione’s new and improved Wolfsbane potion, Harry journeyed to Remus’s rooms to act as go-between yet again for Remus and Tonks, precisely three days after he had told his friends about his condition. Knowing that it was entirely possible that the man could figure out his pregnancy, due to the wolf’s heightened sense of smell, Harry decided to take it in stride, knowing that Remus would likely be more understanding. Harry left the potion in Remus’s room while the man showered before the transformation, and Harry methodically put up the Locking and Portal Spells as he waited in the man’s office.

Since Remus needed supervision, Madam Pomfrey had arranged it where he could miss his first two hours of class tomorrow—which was double potions—and be excused from an assignment that day, all to look after the man. Harry already had a good bed transfiguration spell down, and had asked Dobby to bring him his pillow before bedtime. The house-elf would also be on hand to provide breakfast for Remus and Harry tomorrow, and Harry had decided to inform Remus of his pregnancy then.

Harry pulled out a charms essay he was working on via the book _Chadwick’s Charms_ , which was fascinating, due to the fact that it had been approved literature for Ilvermorny’s students. It was Harry’s task to discover the differences between charm usage and spell work between Great Britain and the United Kingdom, and Harry was all too happy to do so. He had heard from Hermione, however, about “pregnancy brain”, and was worried about his final exams, when it came time to take them, that he would forget everything he’d learned that year.

It was around eleven, after Harry had had some pudding in the form of an Eton mess, that he was ready for bed. Using the Bed Conjuring Spell that Hermione had taught him, he moved the chairs beside the fireplace across the room to accommodate the rather large piece of furniture. It was made complete with the pillow that Dobby had considerately provided him with, and Harry felt secure as he tucked himself in, and pulled the curtains around him. He didn’t hear Remus crying out, and that was probably a good thing. He had spoken to Tonks a few moments ago, letting the witch know that he would contact her immediately should the need arise, as his eyes grew heavy, and he succumbed to sleep.

It was the light creeping in from his makeshift bed curtains that awoke him the next day, just as the clock in the courtyard chimed the eighth hour. Pushing himself out of bed and getting to his feet, he hastily casted a Cleaning Charm upon himself, including a Teeth Polishing one, and changed into the change of clothes Dobby had left folded upon the chair. He crossed the room and tentatively knocked upon Remus’s bedroom door.

“I’ll be out in a moment, Harry,” the man called.

“Great,” Harry replied. Turning around, Harry vanished the bed, knowing that Dobby would be along with their breakfast soon, as he could ask the elf to return his pillow back to his bed in the dorm then. He moved the chairs back into their proper places before the fire and set about tidying up his school papers and such, which he placed back inside his bag and perched upon a seat, and waited for the man to come out.

Remus stepped out a moment later, just after Dobby had cracked in with their breakfast, and vanished with Harry’s pillow. He smiled at Harry and moved to sit across from him, and took up a rasher from the plate. “I hope I wasn’t too loud last night.”

Harry shook his head. “Barely heard you,” he replied, stabbing at an egg with his fork.

Remus nodded at him. “Ravenous, aren’t we?”

Harry shrugged. “Sixteen,” he replied.

Remus gave a little hum in response to that, methodically chewing his rasher. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you being pregnant, does it?” he asked candidly.

Harry dropped his fork onto his plate of eggs and looked up at Remus. “Are you superior senses of smell at work here?” he guessed.

Remus gave a nod at that. “Perhaps, and they’ve not been wrong before.” He finished chewing his first rasher and picked up a second. “Am I wrong?”

Harry shook his head, sinking into his chair. “No,” he replied, “you’re not wrong about me being pregnant, Remus.”

Remus let out a short sigh, taking his time with his second rasher, chewing it carefully before swallowing it. “And, I take it, that Severus is the father?”

Harry gave a slight nod at that. “He is.”

“I see.”

Harry swallowed, hoping beyond hope that the outcome of the conversation would be a positive one. “Are you angry with me?”

Remus shook his head. “No, of course not.” He hesitated for a moment. “I take it that you were unaware that wizards could become pregnant?”

“Yes,” Harry affirmed.

“Living in the Muggle world can give you preconceived notions,” he admitted.

“Like people that are gay are stigmatized?” Harry asked.

Remus nodded, allowing that. “That is one example, yes; sexual orientation isn’t really thought of as good or bad in the wizarding world, one way or the other. It just is,” he stated. “As for the whole males having the ability to get pregnant, with Muggles, women only have the ability to get pregnant, and this all has to do with the magical core. Well, mostly,” he amended.

Harry blinked. “There’s another reason?”

“Well, yes. In times of war, population will dwindle, as the best fighters have frequently been positioned on the front lines since ancient times,” he explained. “As such, witches and wizards have been given the ability to conceive, so as to preserve the population.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, no longer so on edge. “I suppose that makes sense,” he allowed, and pushed his eggs around his plate at his fork.

“How do you feel about the pregnancy, Harry?”

He sighed. “Well, I wish the other father was speaking to me,” he admitted.

“Severus is not speaking to you?”

“No.”

“Because of the pregnancy?”

“That’s not it,” Harry told him. “Severus doesn’t know about the pregnancy. I haven’t seen him since the Christmas holidays.”

“Is that when this happened?”

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “This happened on Halloween.”

Remus, who had been in the process of lifting up a third rasher, stopped himself and met Harry’s eyes for a moment, and decided against the third rasher, and sat back in his chair. “Are you happy about this pregnancy, Harry?”

Harry nodded at him. “Yes, of course I am. I’ve always wanted a family, but once I found out that I was gay, I didn’t think it would happen for me the natural way, you know? And there’s also the matter of Riddle coming after me, having marked me for death when I was just a kid,” he went on, his voice bitter. “What am I supposed to do, Remus?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Harry sighed, leaning forward and placing his plate of eggs onto the table as he put his head into his hands and massaged his temples. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Are you all right?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know that either,” he said. “I mean, I love him, and I don’t even know where he is...”

“What else, Harry?” Remus asked him.

Harry chuckled deeply. “Turning into a mind healer, are we?”

“I’m just trying to help you, Harry,” Remus said gently.

“I don’t know if anyone can help this, Remus,” Harry whispered. “My lover has gone silent towards me since the Christmas holidays. He didn’t even acknowledge that I’d gotten him a bloody birthday gift. And I’ve no idea where he is, or even if he...”

“What, Harry?” Remus asked softly.

Harry looked up then, willing himself not to cry. “I don’t even know if he loves me,” he said quietly, and Remus looked shocked at the declaration.

~*~

“Harry, I know you’ve a lot on your mind right now,” Hermione said, her voice bordering on impatience, a week after Harry had told Remus about his pregnancy, as well as the fact that he was convinced that Severus didn’t love him. “Harry, are you listening?”

Harry sighed. “Sorry, ‘Mione. What is it?”

Hermione sighed, and shoved a piece of parchment in his direction. “A revised studying schedule,” she said patiently. “Now that you don’t have to do a practical exam for potions, and only have to turn in an essay—which I’m sure you’ll be permitted notes and other research materials—you’ve just got charms, transfiguration, herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic, as you’ve opted to drop Astronomy and Divination, and good riddance,” she said, and Harry sensed she only meant that for the final subject she’d mentioned.

Harry sighed. “Thanks, Hermione,” he said, not wanting her to think for a minute that he wasn’t grateful for all her help.

Hermione, who was sitting beside him in the Gryffindor common room, peered closer at him. “I sense that there’s something else going on in your head,” she said.

Harry smirked. “Turning into Trelawney, are we?”

Hermione made a face. “Merlin, I hope not,” she said. “But what’s going on, Harry? Is there something bothering you, other than the obvious?”

“It’s not a bother, more like a question,” Harry replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Can I help?”

“I was wondering if you’d come with me to the hospital wing,” Harry told her. “This was the first time I had a chance to fit in Madam Pomfrey to tell me the sex.”

Hermione grinned. “You want me there with you for that?”

Harry nodded. “Only if you don’t mind. As godmother...”

Hermione let out a squeal. “You want me to be godmother?!”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Hermione squealed again and threw her arms around him. “Of course I’ll go, and I’d love to be godmother to the little darling!” she replied.

Harry and Hermione walked arm in arm down to the hospital wing; Draco and Ginny were flying around the Quidditch pitch with Ron before dinner, and Harry and Hermione had promised to join them later, after the appointment. They stepped inside, and, once Harry explained to Madam Pomfrey that he wanted Hermione there, the matron was very supportive. She had Harry lie back upon a bed hidden by screens and lift up his vest and button-down, while Hermione was permitted to stand by and hold his hand.

“All right, then,” Madam Pomfrey said, once she had the machine all set up, and had put the gel onto Harry’s exposed stomach. She brought the wand down and gently applied pressure to Harry’s distended belly, and the whooshing sound of the heartbeat promptly filled the ears of the pregnant wizard, the mediwitch, and Hermione Granger.

“That’s the heartbeat?” Hermione breathed.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey told her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded.

“All right,” Madam Pomfrey went on, steering the wand about. “And there’s the baby,” she said proudly, and Harry’s eyes filled with tears while Hermione let out a soft gasp.

“This is amazing,” she whispered.

“It is,” Harry whispered back.

“And you did want to know the sex, Harry?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I did,” he told her.

“Well, you and Baby Girl Potter are doing splendidly,” Madam Pomfrey announced.

Harry and Hermione immediately looked at each other. “A girl!” Harry whispered, his voice and expression one of awe.

“This is so exciting, Harry!” Hermione crowed.

Madam Pomfrey continued to break down what they were seeing on the screen for another few moments before she shut off the monitor, and provided pictures for Harry. Using a Cleaning Charm, she spelled the gel off from his belly, permitting Harry to pull his shirt and vest down and regarded him. “Keep up with the walks around the grounds, Harry, for getting plenty of fresh air is wonderful in pregnancy,” she told him. “And, as Dobby has reported, you’ve been doing wonderfully with your diet. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry replied, before waving to her and walking outside of the hospital wing with Hermione.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as they walked. “Okay?”

“It just seems more real now,” he said, caressing his stomach.

Hermione nodded. “I can imagine,” she replied.

Harry swallowed, and stopped walking, and Hermione immediately stopped her progress down the corridor as well. “Hermione?”

“Yes?”

Harry sighed, the tears coming unbidden to his eyes. “What if Severus doesn’t want either of us?” he whispered, and Hermione promptly stepped forward, yanking Harry into her arms and offering words of comfort, as her best friend sobbed on her shoulder for the second time since his pregnancy, and likely the fiftieth time since he’d known her, and something told her that it wouldn’t be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Irving" is my paternal grandfather's name, and he served in World War Two, hence the first name of the male author of the wizarding pregnancy book, as well as when it was published. I miss him every day.


	19. Fall Apart

Harry grumbled under his breath as he stretched out upon the couch of the Gryffindor common room, all in an attempt to get comfortable. He, Ron, Hermione, and Draco had just finished their final end-of-term exams, while Ginny was in the process of completing her final OWL in charms, and due back to the common room within the hour. Draco and Ron played wizard’s chess across the room and Hermione, worried for Harry, finally pushed him up and began to squeeze at the muscles in his back patiently.

“Have you heard from him yet?” Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head and gritted his teeth, so as to prevent the stream of tears which seemed to plague him for the last several weeks. “No,” he replied. _Damn hormones_ , he thought for the umpteenth time since his pregnancy had revealed itself.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry sighed. “Stiff,” he admitted, finally pushing himself up. “It’s late. I’d better get downstairs to Remus before it sets in.”

Hermione nodded, summoning a bottle of Wolfsbane from her secret stash at the bottom of her trunk in the sixth-year girls’ dormitory, and handed it over to Harry. “Good luck,” she told him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Harry forced a smile to his lips. “Thanks,” he said. He waved to Ron and Draco as he got to his feet, positioning his bag over his shoulder, and left the common room. On his way to Remus, he ran into Ginny, who hugged him, and told him that her charms exam had gone well, and Harry, in turn, told her that Draco was waiting for her in the common room.

Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom a few moments later, and let himself into Remus’s inner office, before he made his way into the man’s inner rooms. It was a few hours before the transformation was due to take place, and so Harry found Remus, freshly showered, and sitting beside the fireplace. Although spring had set in over a month ago, Remus always seemed cold right before the transformation, and so he was wrapped up in a series of blankets upon Harry’s arrival.

“Oh, Harry,” Remus said warmly, “I should’ve mentioned...”

Harry blinked as the door shut automatically behind him. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Remus assured him, a smile coming to his lips. “It’s just that Sirius agreed to sit with me tonight. You look exhausted, so I think the plan is a good one.”

Harry swallowed and shuffled from foot to foot. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

Remus shook his head. “I haven’t told him, so I don’t think so.”

“But he knows I’m exhausted...”

“You’ve just completed your end-of-term exams, Harry,” Remus said. “And, given that you’re best friends with the best student in your year, it’s understandable.”

Harry smirked, inviting himself to sit across from Remus, and handed over the bottle of Wolfsbane, and put a hand on his belly. “Well, Hermione’s study schedules are murder, although I did opt not to take Divination or Astronomy...”

“Good thing, too,” Remus said, taking the bottle. “You wouldn’t have needed them, given that I have a distinct idea of what you’re good at by now.”

Harry sighed, and stiffened for a moment. “Merlin,” he muttered.

“Everything all right?”

Harry sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. “She’s kicking,” he explained.

Remus chuckled at that. “I hear they do that,” he replied, turning the potions bottle over and over in his hands. “Tonks and I were speaking earlier...”

Harry looked up, knowing that a discussion involving Remus and Tonks would prove to be a worthy distraction. “Yeah? Everything all right with you guys?”

Remus nodded at him, a slow smile cropping up upon his face. “I’ve decided that I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he replied.

Harry grinned at the prospect, knowing full well just how good for the other the couple was. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” he told him.

Remus beamed. “Thank you,” he replied. “I’ve got my mother’s engagement ring, which I found in my Gringotts vault recently. Sirius and I were at the bank recently, looking into the whole Horcrux debacle, and I thought it was a perfect time to do so. Sirius already gave me his blessing, as it were, and I’m due to meet with Ted and Andromeda soon to discuss it at length with the two of them. Just hope they don’t mind...”

“They know how Tonks feels about you,” Harry assured him. “I’m sure that, in the end, all they want is for their daughter to be happy.”

“Yes, that’s what Sirius thought,” Remus replied. “He’s even offered to come with me to the Tonks’ place to ask. I’ve taken him up on the offer.”

Harry nipped at his lower lip then, considering. “You went to Gringotts to look into the Black family vaults?”

“In addition to the Lupin one, yes,” Remus confirmed.

Harry cocked his head to one side. “Find anything?” he asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Remus replied. “As Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and brother-in-law are wanted fugitives, and the Dark hasn’t completely overtaken the ministry just yet, Sirius is permitted to get into the Lestrange family vault,” he told Harry.

Harry’s brows knit together. “But what about Lucius and Narcissa?”

The wolf shook his head. “Lucius is now in Azkaban for life, as you well know, and Narcissa can hardly attempt to revitalize the Malfoy name, due to her decision to stand by her husband and cast off her son.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, I see.”

“Which leaves Sirius, as the senior male member of the extended family, with permission to look into the vaults,” Remus said steadily. “We’ve found something.”

“Yes?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

“Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup,” Remus whispered, knowing full well that the walls had ears. “I used my acute sense of hearing, and discovered the distinct humming matched that of the whispers inside the locket.”

“Whispers,” Harry whispered, a thought suddenly coming to him, and launched to his feet then, a bit unsteady, but knowing he had to have a moment to collect his thoughts. “Send Sirius my best, Remus, I’ve got to go,” he said quickly, running from the room before he could be called back. It was as if something in his thoughts had cleared, and, as he left the classroom, he pulled out his wand and considered something happy. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” he shouted, and Prongs made himself known, and hesitated for a moment, wondering if his caster had a message. “Find Luna, and tell her to meet me in the headmaster’s office,” Harry said breathlessly, watching as Prongs bowed to Harry and flitted off down the corridor.

Harry turned around then and dashed towards the headmaster’s office, unknowing what he would say to the man. He’d barely managed to fend off the man’s probing questions these past few weeks about how he was feeling, as he knew full well he’d barely believed him or Madam Pomfrey when it came to Harry’s reported “stomach bug”. As Harry rounded the corner, however, he felt a rush of relief when he saw Luna walking towards the gargoyle, and found himself throwing his arms around her.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, squeezing him back for a moment before she pulled back. “And how is your daughter this afternoon?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

Luna smiled slowly. “Of course, Harry. Your body’s chemistry differs considerably whenever a pregnancy is involved,” she explained, before turning towards the gargoyle. “Pixie Puffs,” she said, and the stone being jumped out of the way, and Luna reached out, taking Harry by the hand and gently guiding him up the spiraled staircase.

The door swung open, and Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, tinkering with the odd Muggle gadget, which he immediately put aside upon Harry and Luna’s entrance. “Ah, Harry, and Miss Lovegood,” he said, getting to his feet. “How may I help you?”

“I think Harry knows the answer better than I do, headmaster,” Luna replied, and turned to look at Harry with a quick smile.

“Sir, I have reason to believe that a Horcrux was destroyed already,” he said, and Dumbledore gave a cursory glance at Luna, and Harry nodded, confirming that Luna was well-aware of the hunt for the Dark and cursed objects, alongside Neville.

“Oh, Harry? Do, please, tell me more,” Dumbledore replied, indicating the chairs in front of his desk, which Harry and Luna took. “To what are you referring, then?”

“Tom Riddle’s diary, back in the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry said quickly, before he lost the Gryffindor courage coursing through his veins.

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. “Yes. I was thinking the very same thing myself.”

“Which means that we need a fang from the basilisk I slaughtered,” Harry told him, not looking forward to going back down into the chamber, but also knowing that he would do it, if it meant they were one step closer to destroying a bit of Riddle’s soul.

“Oh, I think not, Harry,” Dumbledore replied with a chuckle. “You killed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“Which means that it would be filled with the venom from the beast,” Luna said, quickly connecting the dots, “and, therefore, a perfectly suitable weapon to destroy these objects, which have been so tainted by Tom Riddle.”

“Which is why I asked you here, Luna,” Harry said, and turned towards the fifth-year Ravenclaw with wide eyes. “Another Horcrux, discovered by Sirius and Professor Lupin, has been found to have been Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. I was thinking that, since another is the locket of Salazar Slytherin, that another has something to do with Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, that’s a rather simple one, then,” Luna told him. “It has to be Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem but, unfortunately, the piece has been lost for quite a few centuries. Her portrait in the common room has her wearing it, so it couldn’t have been lost for all that time...”

Harry felt something slam from within him then, and he got to his feet. “You’re brilliant, Luna,” he told her. “Stay with Dumbledore; I’ll be right back,” he said, and was dashing off again, this time with a particular destination in mind. As he arrived at the barren stone wall, outside of the Room of Requirement, he focused all he could, and, quite soon, the door made itself available to Harry, who stepped inside.

Inside the room were a great plethora of things from years’ past; he noticed Fluffy’s collar in one corner, back from first-year; in another, there was the cage of the Cornish Pixies that Gilderoy Lockhart had attempted to make Harry, Ron, and Hermione clear up in second-year. Further into the room, within stacks of the objects, Harry was amazed to see the axe that had been due to execute Buckbeak from third-year; from his fourth-year, behind a class case, there was Cedric Diggory’s Triwizard Tournament uniform, which made him feel unsettled. Harry then found that he had to do a double-take, as he saw the pile of fireworks, emblazoned with the Weasley twins’ logo, which had been used to take down Umbridge the year before.

Harry looked through the various stacks of things, knowing that the room would provide him with the location in which to search for the object, but would require him to look for it on his own, as it wanted him to work for it. As he sifted through the stacked objects, he finally found a beautiful cherry wood box, covered with a fine layer of dust, lodged in a stack which was filled with chairs and other smatterings of broken furniture. Carefully, Harry managed to dislodge it from the pile, and, upon opening it up, saw a beautiful headpiece, made of wrought silver, and boasting an impressive sapphire in the center, and a pearl dangling from it, lying inconspicuously within a bed of black velvet.

Quickly, due to the whispers emitting from the piece, Harry knew instinctively what this was, and slammed the box closed. He tucked it into his bag and stealthily left the room, hardly wanting to upset any of the makeshift piles around him. He quickly made his way back to the headmaster’s office, and the gargoyle permitted him to go up the stairs without a password. He stepped inside a moment later, crossed the room, and placed the box upon the desk, before he sat back down, and took an offered cup of tea.

“You’ve found it?” Dumbledore asked, sliding the box towards him and opening it. “Ah, yes. I would recognize the piece anywhere.”

“We’ve got to destroy them,” Harry said quietly. “The sooner the better.”

Dumbledore nodded and shut the box. “Quite right, my boy. We’ll have Sirius and Remus help us with the endeavor, once the full moon is over.”

~*~

It was on the final day of May, after a discussion with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco about an agreement to spend the summer at the Burrow, that Harry went back upstairs to Dumbledore’s office in the Headmaster’s Tower. They would have met earlier, but Dumbledore had an inkling about something, and had been temporarily called away. When Harry arrived in the office, he saw Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus standing around the table, gazing down at the cup, the diadem, the locket, and, as he stepped closer, was quite shocked to see that a ring had also been added into the mix.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“The ring of Marvolo Gaunt,” Dumbledore replied, looking up. “I was tempted to try it on, but Sirius and Remus talked me out of it.”

“I can feel the dark magic from here,” Harry reported. “Probably not a good idea.”

Sirius, who was holding the Sword of Gryffindor, handed it over to Harry. “Would you care to do the honors?” he asked.

Harry grinned and stepped forward. He angled the sword accordingly, and promptly slashed it into the stone of both the ring and the diadem. He next moved towards the cup, slicing at it expertly, and felt altogether proud of himself. Quickly, smatterings of a deep gray smoke filled the air, along with screams of agony. Harry stumbled backwards, feeling as if someone was attempting to rip something out of him, and his scar throbbed.

“Are you all right, my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, and handed the sword to him. “I think that you should do the next one, sir,” he said, and nodded at the locket. “Can one of you open it?”

“We’ve tried,” Remus put in. “It won’t open for any of us...”

“Guess it has to be me,” Harry replied, taking a deep breath. He stared down at the locket, and hissed, _Open_ , in Parseltongue, and, a moment later, all hell broke loose.

The gray smoke seemed to fill the room, and an agonized wail filled the air, with Sirius and Remus diving behind Dumbledore’s desk, and Harry promptly falling to his knees. Dumbledore looked at the locket, still gripping onto the sword, almost as if he’d had no idea what such an object could have been capable of.

_I have seen your dreams, Albus Dumbledore, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible... Least loved, by the father who broke the Statute of Secrecy, and was taken to Azkaban. Least loved, by the mother who had to tend to that mad sister of yours, and paid for it with her life. Least loved, by the brother who claimed that you were responsible for your youngest sibling’s death..._

There was a shadow in the smoke then, and a tall, blond male made himself known, and Harry squinted, although he had no idea who the man was.

 _Why would I ever look at someone like you? I was_ using _you, Albus_ , came the cold tone from the impossibly beautiful man within the smoke. _We, who wanted to take over the world together, to make Muggles subservient to wizard kind, but you had to take care of that mad sister of yours, and that brother, who never left us alone, and threatened to expose our plans, and what he called an unnatural relationship, to the world..._

“Gellert...” Dumbledore whispered brokenly, his blue eyes filling with tears, as he fought to retain his grip upon the sword.

The smoke cleared slightly, and a second figure stood within it. _I killed those Muggle boys to protect our way of life, and to save your dear sister_ , the man intoned, who appeared to be a younger version of Dumbledore, save for a shaved head, and Harry quickly deduced that this was his father, Percival, who had died in Azkaban, due to the clothes he was wearing. _This is how you repay me, by ignoring your mother, brother, and sister, and allowing your sister’s madness to overtake her, to the point where my beloved Kendra was killed? Or making your beloved brother suffer, when all he wanted was to raise Ariana appropriately, and you, giving into flights of fancy by entering into an unnatural relationship, and ignoring your family completely? I am disgusted of you, Albus!_

The headmaster crumpled further. “Father, please... Have I failed you?”

A third figure made himself known, and Harry was taken aback, as he almost immediately recognized the barman of the Hog’s Head Inn, complete with his brown beard, etched with silver, and kind brown eyes. _I wanted to keep Ariana safe, Albus_ , said the voice, and Harry choked, shocked that this man, Aberforth, was Albus’s brother. _That’s all I wanted to do. And you took up with that disgusting excuse for a wizard, and were content to drag Ariana across the world to fulfill your selfish dreams!_

“Ab?” Dumbledore whispered, his voice a mere thread. “Oh, Ab, I’m so sorry...”

A final figure made herself known immediately thereafter; she was a slip of a thing, likely in her early teenage years, and had flowing blonde hair and intelligent eyes. _Albus_ , came her voice, which seemed to be altogether frail, _why did you let him into the yard that day?_ came her whisper at her brother, and Albus crumpled even further still at the soft voice of his youngest sibling and only sister, Ariana. _You let him into our yard; I saw you kissing him from the kitchen window, I saw you,_ she carried on, and Dumbledore visibly gritted his teeth in despair. _Ab came out and yelled at you, because you started talking about traveling with Gellert... Why did you want control of me so badly? I was certifiably insane, and had no access to the Dumbledore fortune because of it. Ab could have had me, kept me safe and loved, for he was, and remains to this day, my favorite brother_ , she continued. _But you three were yelling, and all I wanted to do was stop it... That’s all I wanted, Albus, was to stop it..._

“Ariana,” Dumbledore said, and it sounded as if the headmaster was begging.

 _...but you wouldn’t stop_ , she went on, her tale slowly drawing to a close. _And there was yelling between the three of you, so much yelling. I was tired of all the yelling—it reminded me of those boys that hurt me, that made Papa go to Azkaban_ , she said, her voice encompassing on a wail as her fragile mind threatened to get the better of her. _But you just wouldn’t stop. I ran out of the house, and even though you both told me to stay back, I didn’t listen, because that dreadful boy, the one you were willing to risk what was left of my sanity for, had drawn his wand. I just ran, and ran, and ran_ , came her voice, barely above a whisper. _There was a green light, it was from Gellert’s wand, I know it, and it slashed into me_ —

“No!” Dumbledore yelled.

 _He killed me, Albus_ , Ariana Dumbledore declared, tears running down her cheeks. _Your lover is the one who killed me. And you told him to run, to evade charges, and you’re responsible for turning him into the darkest wizard Britain had ever known, before Lord Voldemort staked his claim and ruined our country once more—_

“ _NO_!” came the screech from the headmaster then, as he finally lifted the Sword of Gryffindor, slashing it through the air, and swiping through the gray smoke which permeated the office, and stabbed at the locket, the final screech heard of yet another piece of the soul of Tom Riddle being ripped apart.

Harry got unsteadily to his feet, a wave of nausea flowing through him. As he tried to right himself, the sword clattered to the floor across the room, and his eyes widened then, as another pain ripped through him, causing him to double over and vomit.

“Merlin,” Harry whispered, gripping his knees.

“Harry?” Sirius asked, as Remus hastily bent to pick up the sword. “Are you all right?” he wanted to know, helping him up.

“I... I can feel them,” he whispered.

“What?” Remus demanded, turning around to watch Harry.

Harry shuddered then, and slowly lifted a hand towards his scar. “I... I think I’m one,” he said then, and Sirius stared at him. “I think I’m a Horcrux,” Harry declared, causing his godfather to let out a noise of despair, quite like that of Snuffles, and threw his arms around Harry, almost as if he was unwilling to let him go.

~*~

The first Friday in June had arrived, and with it, plenty of sunny weather. Ginny arrived in the Room of Requirement to meet with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco and, as she breezed inside the hidden room, immediately dashed to Draco’s side and kissed him for all to see. It was then that she presented an envelope to him and giggled as Draco took it.

“Professor McGonagall gave it to us during transfiguration,” she said, which was her final class of the day before dinner. “Open it.”

Draco flashed his girlfriend a smile and did so, gazing at the piece of parchment. “My girlfriend is a genius!” he crowed, tossing the parchment at Hermione and grabbing ahold of Ginny’s hand and pulled her up with him, whereupon he proceeded to grab ahold of her waist and dance around with her about the room.

“Transfiguration, O,” Hermione read, as Harry and Ron both leaned in closer. “Care of Magical Creatures, O,” Hermione continued. “Charms, E. Potions, O. Herbology, E. Defense Against the Dark Arts, O. History of Magic, E. Astronomy, E.” Hermione nodded in approval, before she put the marks of Ginny’s OWLs back into the envelope, knowing that she would likely want to send it on ahead to the Burrow before term ended. “That’s amazing, Gin,” she said, once Draco and Ginny had exhausted themselves and sat back down, before crawling closer to Ginny and hugging her tightly.

“Luna’s got hers back as well,” Ginny reported. “We mostly got the same, except Luna got an O in charms, Astronomy, potions, and herbology, and an E in Defense,” she explained. “She also managed an O in History of Magic,” she went on with a giggle.

Ron grinned. “Probably didn’t try to wake up Binns,” he put in.

Harry swallowed then and shifted slightly, inadvertently causing all his friends to look over at him, and he sighed. “I’ve got something to tell you all as well,” he said quietly.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Is everything all right with the baby?” she asked.

Harry ran his hands along his stomach. “For the moment,” he replied, suddenly realizing that he didn’t know what he was going to do fully, and resolved to speak to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible. “As you all know, I destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets, and it was a Horcrux,” he began.

Ginny nodded, reaching out and squeezing Harry’s hand. “We know,” she told him, her voice gently, and full of patience.

“Anyhow,” Harry continued, “I went to Dumbledore’s office a week ago, and Sirius and Remus were there, too. We destroyed several Horcruxes. Salazar Slytherin’s Locket, which was in lockup at Grimmauld Place beforehand, and easy to get to. Another was Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, which Luna tipped me off to, and I found it in here... The third one was Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, which Remus and Sirius found in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. And the last one was Marvolo Gaunt’s ring... We destroyed them all, and I destroyed all of them, except Dumbledore did the locket...”

“Merlin, that couldn’t have been easy for you, mate,” Ron put in.

Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

“Are you all right, Harry?” Draco asked.

Harry swallowed, but forced himself to shake his head. “No, Draco,” he replied, forcing his voice to come through his lips. “No, I’m not all right.”

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione whispered.

Harry raised his eyes to all of theirs, and sighed. “There’s a reason I can feel them. The Horcruxes, because they’re pieces of him,” he said softly. “I think I’ve known about the connection for a while...”

Ginny let out a gasp then, catching on rather quickly. “Harry... Harry, no...” Her voice was begging him, as her eyes shed tears.

“Harry, please tell me that this is a joke,” Ron demanded.

“And, if it is, it isn’t funny!” Hermione snapped, although her eyes were filling with tears as well, due to her coming to the conclusion as well.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, “no...”

“Yes,” Harry replied, straightening up then, although he didn’t have the energy to do so. “I’m a Horcrux, too,” he said, and allowed his four best friends to crowd around him and hug him over and over again, and he shut his eyes when his vision became too muddled to see, for he was not about to push them away to wipe his tears.

~*~

The final full moon of term had brought the news that Draco had written to Molly and Arthur some weeks ago, asking them for Ginny’s hand in marriage. Ginny, shocked, had immediately accepted the proposal, once Molly and Arthur had given their blessing, and was now feeling comfortable with wearing her ring—an emerald beset with tasteful diamonds on either side—in front of them all. Ron immediately began rolling up his sleeves, but Hermione considerately distracted him for a moment, to the point where he was willing to accept his only sister’s engagement, albeit begrudgingly.

“It’ll be a long engagement,” Ginny had informed them, and that had seemed to ease Ron’s ruffled feathers a bit.

A week after the final full moon saw the fivesome in the library, in the Restricted Section, after having been given a pass by Remus, to scour the books in the hopes of a potential cure for Harry’s Horcrux. Hermione had refused to believe that Harry’s death was the only way to remove such a thing, and looked deeply into the Dark Arts section of the provided books. The ancient tomes were stuffed full of outdated information and thinking, as well as layer upon layer of dust, causing Harry to sneeze more than twice so, understandably, he kept his distance as much as he could from the research.

Hermione, on her last ounce of patience, pulled out a gigantic tome from the mid-seventeenth century, which was called _Potions of the Darkest Art_ , which was a peeling brown color with faded gold lettering. Pursing her lips, she put a light Dusting Spell upon it, which thankfully made the worst of it vanish, and opened up the book, scouring through the Table of Contents and Appendix in the hopes of finding something of value.

“Passion Philter,” she whispered after about a quarter of an hour of searching through the ancient tome, and her brown eyes darted from one direction of the page to the next, and her face turned into one of rare euphoria, one which Harry hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Eureka!” she shouted then, and Madam Pince glared at her from her desk across the room. Hermione took ahold of the tome and placed it before Harry, ignoring the librarian, and showed him the page that she had found.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. “A potion,” she said, pulling the book back towards her to read. “ _Passion, which is another word for soul, is utilized here in this very rare and very complex potion to remove foreign objects from a person’s body, only in circumstances of Dark Magic that has been unlawfully connected to one’s soul._ ”

Harry sat bolt upright in his chair. “What?” he whispered, as Ron, Draco, and Ginny all gathered around the table.

“Harry, if what we know is true, Riddle implanted the Horcrux within you when you were only fifteen-months-old, and far too young to consent to such a thing,” Hermione told him.

Harry made a bitter expression. “Not that I would...”

“No, of course not,” Hermione said quickly, shaking her head. “ _The potion, while it does possess rare ingredients, only takes an hour, at most, to brew. The recipe is as follows: Two handfuls of shredded Five Finger Grass, otherwise known as Cinquefoil, for the five blessings of Health, Money, Love, Power, and Wisdom, which must be shredded with care and the utmost respect; a handful of Orris Root, which must be diced, and bequeaths the charms of Love, Persuasion, Popularity, Charisma and Success to the drinker; a cupful of Horehound, which must be minced accordingly, and will provide Mental Clarity, Dispelling Illusion, and Healing; a generous handful of Devil’s Claw, smashed with a mortar and pestle, to provide Protection, Exorcism, Banishing Spells, Keeping Away Evil, and Confounding Enemies; and three handfuls of powdered Blue Vervain, which symbolizes Love and Advancement as well as Initiation, which the drinker will need to formally begin anew..._ ” It was with a deep sigh that Hermione broke off, and put her head into her hands.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Harry demanded.

“Blue Vervain is native to North America, Devil’s Claw to Southern Africa, Five Finger Grass to Eastern North America or Canada, Orris Root to the Balkans and Italy, and Horehound to mainly North Africa and Central Asia,” she moaned in despair.

“You don’t think Professor Sprout will have them in the greenhouses?” Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well, we have to try!” Ginny shouted, taking out her wand. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” she yelled, and her horse immediately flitted out of the tip of her wand and whinnied, causing Madam Pince to walk towards them. “Go find Neville, tell him we need Blue Vervain, Devil’s Claw, Five Finger Grass, Orris Root, and Horehound!” she ordered, and the horse scoffed, before bowing its head and cantering out of the library.

“What do you think you’re doing, unleashing a horse in my library?” Madam Pince demanded, her dark eyes flitting from one student to the next.

“Well, erm...” Ron said.

“What the issue at hand is...” Draco tried.

Hermione launched to her feet then, and glared at the librarian. “This is a matter of life and death of the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived, and the Chosen One!” she yelled, her hackles officially on the rise. “If you don’t like it, then perhaps you’re a Death Eater in disguise, in which I think I should inform the headmaster immediately!”

Madam Pince looked justifiably taken aback by Hermione’s outburst. “A matter of life and death, you say?” she asked.

Hermione nodded, struggling to breathe normally again. “Yes,” she replied.

Madam Pince’s gaze flickered momentarily to Harry, before coming to rest upon Hermione once again, and nodded. “Let me know if you need anything, and I’ll do my best to see it is done,” she declared, before going back to her desk, leaving Hermione, heart pounding, struggling to remain calm, although it was becoming more and more difficult for her to do so.

~*~

It was a devastating blow when the greenhouse only had Horehound, but, once Professor Sprout got the short, Dumbledore-approved version of what it was for, promised that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco could have as much as they wanted. Neville, meanwhile, had begun scouring potions and herbology catalogues from across the globe, in the hopes of finding the rest of the potion ingredients for the potion that could potentially save Harry’s life. Hermione and Luna helped in the research as best they could, and Luna even wrote to her father to figure out if they had any leads on foreign potions ingredients.

“I feel so helpless,” Hermione had said more than once over the last three days. “I’m the brightest witch of my age, and the best in our year—everyone says so. And even I know that I cannot brew this potion.”

“Neither can Slughorn,” Draco replied, looking over the recipe and shaking his head. “I don’t even think I could either.”

Harry, who couldn’t stand listening to them literally counting down the hours until his death if the Horcrux couldn’t be removed, left the Gryffindor common room for a walk down the corridors and such. He had the map with him in his back pocket, but he wasn’t looking at it. It was almost as if a part of him didn’t particularly care who he ran into now, as the hours didn’t wholly matter anymore. He meandered towards the Room of Requirement, and he shut his eyes, just wishing for Severus, before pushing open the door.

“Harry?”

Harry’s eyes snapped open then, and he let out a gasp at the sight of his lover, kneeling upon the ground, clutching at his neck. “Severus!” Harry shouted, running across the room and seeing that his neck had been slashed. “No, no, no!” he cried out. “What happened?”

“No time to explain it properly yet,” Severus whispered, and nodded towards the table which had appeared beside them, and two crystal-cut bottles were there. “Give me the green one first,” he wheezed, and Harry made a grab for it, uncorking it and giving it over to the man. Severus visibly winced as he tipped the bottle over the gaping wound, which seemed to smoke for a moment, black clouds leaving it immediately, leading Harry to believe that there was Dark magic associated with the deep cuts on his lover’s neck. “The gold one, Harry—quickly!” Severus said, and Harry handed the second bottle over, once he had uncorked it, watching as the wounds steamed clearly, and the wounds managed to close up.

Harry, thinking quickly, took his wand out from his pocket, and whispered, “ _Scourgify_ ,” which caused the blood on Severus’s hands, neck, and robes to vanish.

“Thank you,” Severus breathed. “I was punished, as Riddle found out that I was truly on the side of the Light all along. Nagini tried to kill me,” he said quietly.

“That snake?!” Harry spat.

“Yes,” Severus said with a nod. “Although I _did_ try to kill her first...” He hesitated. “You know she is a Horcrux, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Harry replied, suspecting that Dumbledore must’ve written to Severus about Slughorn’s memories. “That leaves two, then.”

“Two?” Severus asked.

Harry sighed, shutting his eyes then, no longer capable of holding his emotions back. “Nagini and I are the final ones,” he replied.

“You’re _what_?!” Severus demanded.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. “Yes,” he said softly.

“No!” Severus yelled then, yanking Harry into his arms. “You... You can’t... I won’t let you go, Harry, I won’t!” he declared.

Harry pushed himself out of Severus’s arms, glaring at him. “How am I to believe that when you don’t want a future with me?!” he spat.

Severus shook his head. “I was never meant to survive, Harry,” he whispered. “Albus sent me on a very dangerous mission, when our affair came out. I believed that, by pushing you away, you would seek to find someone more appropriate for you, in all ways...”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I told you that I didn’t care about the age difference or the controversy surrounding our relationship, and I still don’t care, because I love you!” he shouted, tears flowing out of his eyes, all composure gone. “I’ll always love you, and there will never be anyone else, because we’re going to have a daughter together a month from now—!”

“A-a daughter?” Severus stammered, shaking his head. “You...? Harry, you’re pregnant with our child?” he whispered.

Harry swallowed then, and slowly unclasped his robes, showing off his girth, which Harry had frequently called ‘massive’, as he just seemed to keep growing and growing at an exorbitant rate as the weeks ticked by. “Yes, I’m pregnant,” he said, and let out a small gasp as Severus reached out, gently caressing the stomach.

“Male wizards can only become pregnant in extremely rare circumstances,” Severus whispered, truly awed at the situation.

“Yes, we’re very powerful,” Harry snapped impatiently.

“Also if the two wizards are in love, so deeply that the only logical conclusion is that they’re soulmates,” Severus whispered, slowly looking up at Harry.

Harry’s eyes prickled with tears that went down his face. “But... But, you don’t love me,” he said, almost as if he was still attempting to convince himself of that. “You don’t love me, or want me, or want to have a future with me...”

Severus lunged forward then and pressed a possessive kiss to Harry’s lips, never wanting to let the younger man go. “I love you,” he declared, as soon as they had come up for air. “I love you more than anything, my Harry. And I couldn’t be happier that you’re carrying my child, because it means that you love me as much as I love you.”

Harry trembled then, not completely ready to forgive him. “What... What was this dangerous mission that Dumbledore sent you on?”

“A cure for lycanthropy, in addition to all my spy work,” Severus said softly. “I found the cure, and was able to send it to Remus days ago. I’ve no idea if he’s received it yet, but I know that the trusted source I gave it to will ensure he gets it.”

“You can make potions,” Harry breathed, awed.

Severus blinked. “Of course I can,” he replied. “What’s this about?”

Harry looked around the room then, and said, “I require a sustainable table, an acceptable cauldron, the book called _Potions of the Darkest Art_ from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library, and all the ingredients necessary to complete the _Passion Philter_ ,” he said.

No sooner had his command been given, than the bare room was suddenly filled with a cherry wood table, a pewter cauldron with a low flame beneath, the book he’d requested, and the ingredients, in various bags or platters dispersed about the table, alongside a potion master’s kit, and a mortar and pestle. Harry got to his feet, Severus immediately following him, and gazed at the potion ingredients, while Harry tapped the book, which opened immediately to the recipe of _Passion Philter_.

“Severus,” he breathed, getting the man’s attention again, “I really need you to brew this for me,” he whispered.

Severus sighed, looking over the recipe. “Normally, I would ask you to say ‘please’,” he replied, but turned and looked down at his lover, “but I’ve put you through hell, my Harry, and I swear to you, I shall never let you down again.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Severus got to work, using the dexterity that he had picked up over the years in potions and independent research to make the potion as perfect as possible. “It must now simmer for a total of ten minutes,” Severus announced at the end, fifty minutes later.

“Why did you think pushing me away would work?” Harry asked.

Severus sighed. “Perhaps because I believed I had no hope of a future with you, my Harry. And also because I had fully convinced myself that I would die, eventually, and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“You won’t die,” Harry said firmly. “I won’t let you.”

Severus smirked. “I think Merlin would disagree,” he said quietly.

“I know they’re coming, you know,” he said, and pointed to his scar. “They are coming to attack the castle tonight, aren’t they?”

Severus gave a short nod. “Yes. They are.”

Harry swallowed. “Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it, then,” he said, his shoulders slacking then. “I’m not giving up on you.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Good,” Harry replied, extending his hand, and Severus promptly took it. “Because when this is over, I do want a life with you.”

Severus smiled genuinely down at Harry. “Expect a marriage proposal before the summer is out, then, my love,” he said.

Harry looked up at Severus. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Harry,” Severus responded.

Severus ladled the potion into the provided goblet once it had finished simmering, and Harry took it into his hands. He smiled at Severus before lifting the goblet to his lips, forcing himself to drink all of it, even though it tasted like a mixture of dirt, rubbish, and haggis. Harry didn’t even know he knew what haggis tasted like until he tried the potion, but knew that it had to be something that tasted as foul as the dark brown liquid did.

“Harry?” Severus whispered, peering at him. “Harry?”

Harry set the goblet back onto the table and gripped ahold of it; his eyes were watering as he attempted to focus, and he momentarily went blind as something seemed to rip out through his subconscious, and felt something dripping down his forehead. His knees buckled then, and he would have hit the floor, were it not for the pair of strong arms which grabbed ahold of him. It was several more moments before Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and Severus was staring down at him, as awed as he had been when he’d discovered Harry’s pregnancy.

“It’s gone,” he whispered.

Harry blinked. “What is?”

“Your scar,” Severus said softly. “It’s gone.”

Harry lifted his hand to his forehead, only slightly clammy with sweat, and was surprised not to feel the rough edges of his scar. “Merlin,” he breathed.

There was an almighty bang from somewhere deep in the castle then, and Severus promptly pulled Harry closer into his arms. “The blaggards have gotten in,” he whispered.

“Secret passageway,” Harry said softly, and Severus’s eyes snapped to his. “There’s one from the basement of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade into the castle, via the hump of an old witch statue,” he whispered.

“Fuck,” Severus whispered, shaking his head. “Are you okay to walk?”

Harry nodded, pushing himself upwards, relieved when he didn’t go crashing down. “Come on, Severus, I’ve got to kill him—”

Severus grabbed ahold of Harry’s robes then, not willing to let him go. “I’m not going to risk losing you, Harry, not when I’ve just got you back!”

“Severus, you have to let me go, just for now!” he shouted. “One night. I need to kill him tonight and, once he’s gone, we’ve got forever!”

Severus looked torn, before he yanked Harry fully towards him then, kissing him passionately upon the mouth. “I love you,” he declared.

“I know,” Harry whispered. “I love you, too.”

Harry and Severus ran out of the Room of Requirement and down the corridor, hearing a smattering of shouts as they went. They went down the main staircase and into the Entrance Hall, which was filled to the brim with chaos. Professor McGonagall was dueling Dolohov, while Flitwick was besting Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Sprout was sparring with the Carrow siblings. Remus was dueling successfully with Peter Pettigrew, hurt and betrayal imbedded in each curse he threw at his once close friend. A little further down, both Ron and Hermione were throwing spells at Fenrir Greyback, and Bill Weasley suddenly rushed from the Great Hall to help them, with Tonks dashing out a moment later, and rushing to Remus’s side, wand held aloft.

Almost a full thirty seconds later, there was suddenly an outpouring of witches and wizards from the Order of the Phoenix flowing from the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall—Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Fred, and George Weasley, with Sirius just behind them; Elphias Doge, who had been a member of the Advance Guard to escort Harry from what had proved to be his final summer at 4 Privet Drive; Kingsley and Moody, who immediately threw curses at Corbin Yaxley, a particularly bothersome member of the Ministry of Magic; Hestia Jones came out just behind Moody and Kingsley, and almost immediately began battling with Rookwood.

Harry looked down the other direction of the hallway, watching in shock as Luna and Neville took on Avery Jr. in a manner most heroic, but his jaw dropped as Ginny saw Bellatrix Lestrange coming out into the open. Dumbledore was suddenly there, about to duel her, but he didn’t spot the Killing Curse in time, and it was in that manner in which he died, his old body crumpling to the stone floor of the Entrance Hall. Ginny let out an enraged scream then, her great mane of red hair plumed out from behind her as she rushed forward, sending a Stinging Hex the Dark witch’s way, but Bellatrix only laughed, and attempted to immobilize Ginny before killing her, were it not for Draco grabbing ahold of her and dragging her out of the fray. Bellatrix looked positively shocked at the developments that had just come to pass, and glared at the two of them.

“No nephew of mine shall marry a Blood Traitor!” she yelled, and held her wand aloft once again, but her curse was deflected by Molly, who suddenly stepped forward.

“Not my daughter, or my son, you bitch,” she growled, and Bellatrix laughed, and they proceeded throwing curse after curse at one another.

A lump rose in Harry’s throat as he looked out of the doors of the Entrance Hall, where he saw a herd of Dementors flying over the Hogwarts Grounds and coming into the vicinity. No one was looking, and so Harry believed that there would be no one there to save them. However, someone did appear, and the great beam of a powerful Patronus, this one in the form of a goat, took flight, banishing them to the edges of the wards of the castle. Once they had all dissipated from the skirmish, the wizard turned around, and it was none other than Aberforth Dumbledore himself, looking saddened as he took in the broken body of his brother.

Harry looked behind their duel then, and saw Riddle coming out of hiding at the edge of the burning courtyard. Without turning back to look at Severus, Harry moved through the crowd and out of doors, keeping his robe tightly around him as he evaded the Ford Anglia and Aragog’s many children, scurrying along the cobblestones. He drew back for a moment, spotting that Hagrid and his half-brother, Grawp, had rallied the giants of the Forbidden Forest, and they were clobbering at the Death Eaters who had opted to stay outside to protect Riddle.

Harry knew that he could be walking to certain death, but he wanted, more than anything, for all of this to be over for good, with no more resurrections of any kind. As he completed the distance between the two of them at long last and faced down Tom Riddle himself, and the man looked visibly shocked. It was almost as if the man expected him to be that little fifteen-month-old who could not yet speak to himself, or perhaps the young teenager in the graveyard at Little Hangleton in the wake of Cedric Diggory’s death, or the enraged young man at the Department of Mysteries, when he had put all their lives in danger once more.

They could’ve lost so many more people, and would continue to do so, if this Dark wizard continued in his reign of terror. Harry knew then that it had to end now, and even mattered more than getting the House and the Quidditch Cup. It mattered more than laughing with his friends, although he would’ve given anything to hear them laugh once more before the inevitable. And it even mattered more than his future with Severus, no matter how much he may have wanted it, and although he could practically taste it in the hour which could turn out to be the hour of his death, he knew that he could consider it all when he was hit with the curse.

“Hello, Tom,” he said.

Riddle regarded Harry for a moment. “Ah, yes. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, come to die at long last,” he declared then.

Harry distinctly heard a clink of something from beside him, and saw that the Sorting Hat was on the floor of the Entrance Hall. Neville, having spotted it, rushed forward, and grabbed the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor, gleaming from inside it. Nagini hissed as Neville proceeded to taunt her expertly, staying one jump ahead, waiting for her to strike. When she did, Neville easily slashed the air with the sword, lopping off the snake’s head.

Riddle let out an enraged sound then, and pointed his wand at Harry without hesitation, and screamed, “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Harry saw the bolt of green light, and didn’t have the opportunity to counter it with his standard _Expelliarmus_. Turning slightly, he saw Severus, rushing forward and through the crowd, his wand already drawn, his blasted black robes billowing around him.

“No, no!” his lover was shouting as he surged forward.

“It’s all right, Severus,” Harry attempted to assure him. “I love you,” came his final whisper as the green bolt hit him, and he immediately crumpled to the floor of the Entrance Hall, his body just beside that of Dumbledore’s.


	20. Fall in Love

Hermione stepped into Remus’s study at Hogwarts, letting out a small indulgent sound as Ron immediately got to his feet and snogged her. “Just a moment,” she scolded him gently, and went towards Remus’s bedroom door and knocked, with a little wave in Ginny and Draco’s direction, as she waited for someone to come to the door.

Tonks opened it on the other side, and gave a small smile to Hermione; the young Auror truly looked exhausted, but nevertheless took the bottle that Hermione held as Remus stepped up behind her. “This... This isn’t Wolfsbane,” Tonks said softly, and Remus promptly took the bottle from her, looking it over.

“That’s because it’s not,” Hermione said softly. “It’s Lycanthropy Libation, and it’s the latest formula from Professor Snape,” she explained.

Remus turned over and over the clear, crystal-cut bottle in his hand, which contained a lavender liquid on the inside. “Is this what I think it is?” he whispered.

“If it’s the cure for lycanthropy, yes,” Hermione said, giving a small smile towards Remus and Tonks, who immediately gasped with shock. Hermione was as bone-tired as the rest of them, due to sitting in the hospital wing for hours on end with Severus since the final battle, which had been called the Battle of Hogwarts. She had left earlier that day to retrieve the parcel from the owlery, which had arrived earlier, as Severus had sworn not to leave Harry’s side.

“Merlin, Remus,” Tonks breathed, and turned around then, throwing her arms around Remus and sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’d better try it first,” said Remus with a short laugh, as Ron, Ginny, and Draco came up behind Hermione, each boasting a small smile.

Hermione reached into her pocket and drew out a piece of parchment, which had arrived with the parcel earlier. “Here are Professor Snape’s instructions,” she said, and quickly handed it over to Tonks. “Will you be needing anything else?”

Remus shook his head at her, and smiled. “I think we’ll be all right,” he assured them, taking a glance at the instructions before handing them over to Tonks. “See you on the other side.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course,” she replied, reaching out and shutting the door and warding it, before she performed the Portal Spell. She then permitted Ron to lead her over to the chairs beside the fireplace, and he pulled her into his lap, with Draco doing the same to Ginny opposite the two of them. “I hope this works for them,” she said softly.

Ron pressed a kiss to her temple. “If anyone can do it, it’s Professor Snape. He’s been a lot calmer, since the battle...”

Ginny sighed, shaking her head at her brother’s statement. “The love of his life has been in a coma since then,” she said, her tone slightly impatient as she permitted Draco to gently drag his fingers through her hair. “Of course he’s been calm.”

“The poor man is exhausted,” Draco continued, no animosity in his voice. “No wonder he sent me and Ginny out to Hogsmeade a few days back to the jewelers.”

“I, for one, think it’s very sweet that he’s planning a proposal to Harry,” Hermione said. “He needs to be doing something, keeping his brain active, when he can’t sleep...”

“I’m just glad that he’s promised to tell Harry who survived and who didn’t,” Ron said, as he pressed his cheek into Hermione’s shoulder. “Glad I don’t have to have that conversation with Harry... Snape probably knows how to handle him if Harry blames himself.”

“Which you know he will,” Ginny said softly, sadness ripping into her expression. “He’s too kind for his own good. I wish he wouldn’t blame himself for all the death surrounding us all, I really wish he wouldn’t...”

“How’s your mum?” Draco asked, pressing a kiss to Ginny’s arm.

Ginny sighed. “Mothering Percy, ever since he quit the ministry,” she said, a lighthearted giggle escaping her lips. “As for her battle with that murderous aunt of yours, I’m pleased who won in the end, and that she didn’t end up using _Avada Kedavra_.”

“Few people would have deserved it more, love,” Draco said softly.

“Well, she can deal with the lacerations she sustained,” Ron put in. “And George is using the fact that he’s only got one ear left as a selling point at the shop.”

“Although I really could do without his and Fred’s constant ‘hole’ jokes,” Hermione said, pursing her lips as she cuddled closer to Ron.

“I always thought that Percy hated mothering,” Draco said quietly.

Ginny smirked, pleased that Draco had circled back around to that. “Well, given that Bill and Fleur ran off to France to elope as soon as all was said and done here, Mum is thinking that she’s done something wrong with raising us.”

“How’s Charlie?” Hermione asked.

“Back in Romania,” Ron reported. “I think he’s still single for now, but I do know that he said before that he wanted kids.”

“He could always adopt,” Draco put in.

Ginny nodded. “Merlin knows we need new blood in the gene pool,” she joked.

“You don’t think that Harry will be upset about who Sirius has proposed to, do you?” Draco asked, looking around them all.

Ron smirked. “I would think that Percy has more of a reason than Harry to be upset,” he put in, giving a knowing look in Ginny’s direction.

“You know as well as I do that Percy threw over Penelope during their seventh-year, and that he’s been seeing Audrey, that nice girl who works as Kingsley’s secretary, for almost two years now, and they’re quite happy,” Ginny replied, her tone slightly snappish.

“I personally think that Harry will be more shocked with the fact that Scrimgeour was killed as a late-comer in the battle,” Hermione said after a moment of silence, “and that Kingsley has now taken up the mantle of minister.”

Ginny worried her lower lip as she eased further into Draco’s arms. “You don’t think that any of us have blood on our hands, do you?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, of course not, Gin.”

“If it’s for defensive purposes, my love, it’s never seen as an evil thing to take a life,” Draco said, lifting up Ginny’s hand and kissing it, which caused her breathtaking diamond surrounded by emeralds to shimmer in the firelight.

“I still don’t like it,” Ron muttered to Hermione.

“And yet, you’ll stand by him on the day proper, and serve as a wonderful Best Man, just like you promised the two of them,” Hermione said softly.

“I still don’t know how I feel about Ginny becoming the mistress of Malfoy Manor,” Ron said, his tone that of a grumble.

Hermione laughed softly as they watched Ginny and Draco whisper lovingly to one another, and Ginny gently twirling Draco’s own engagement ring, a simple platinum band. “Since Narcissa was arrested for Death Eater activities, just like Lucius, I don’t think it will be the same house anymore, Ron,” she said gently, leaning into his embrace. “Ginny and Draco will bring life to the house again, and perhaps salvage the family name, so blackened by hate.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s Gin,” Ron allowed.

Hermione nodded. “Exactly,” she told him, finding that she was truly happy for the couple—for the girl who had become her sister, and for the boy that she had used to hate, but now come to love as a brother and dear friend. “And I know that we were sad to lose Dumbledore...”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. But Madam Pomfrey says we won’t...”

“No, we’re not going to lose Harry,” Hermione assured him. “She says we won’t, and she’s quite qualified in her field.”

Ron blinked then. “Perhaps that’s something to think about.”

Hermione turned and looked at him. “Ron?”

“Kingsley’s been writing to me, asking me to join the ministry, take my NEWTs early,” Ron told her, and Hermione’s eyes widened.

“That’s brilliant, Ron,” she told him.

Ron sighed. “Brilliant? Yes. But he wants to me join the Auror Department...”

Hermione’s brows knit together. “And that’s not what you want?”

Ron shook his head. “No, and it was merely a suggestion. He said that he’ll let me into pretty much any department I want, because they’re re-building the institution from the ground up, now that they’ve imprisoned the Death Eaters and got them out of there.”

Hermione nodded. “Which department were you thinking of, then?”

“Not the ministry at all—well, not really,” Ron told her, and Hermione could tell that he was nervous to tell her what his future plans were. “I was actually thinking of offering my services to the Ministry of Divine Health,” he replied.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “For what purpose?”

“To ensure quality care for all wizard kind,” he replied. “There are so many wizard and witch families out there who don’t have quality health insurance or care because of financial difficulties, and I would ensure that they—plus magical creatures—would get the best care that was out there, so that no one would go overlooked again. And, perhaps, you could help me, as S.P.E.W. would likely be a good frontrunner for the entire operation—”

Hermione’s mouth had dropped open at the mention of S.P.E.W., and then she grabbed ahold of Ron and threw her arms around him, kissing him with more passion than he had ever felt in his entire life. “Ron...” She whispered, once she had pulled back.

Ron bent forward then, using the pads of his thumbs to dry her tears. “Don’t cry, ‘Mione,” he said gently to her.

Hermione gave a nervous laugh then, and shook her head. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that Kingsley is going to be writing to Headmistress McGonagall on my behalf, so that I can sit for my NEWTs this summer as well, but...”

“But what?” he asked.

“It was because of something else,” she said, and a nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” he asked.

Hermione sighed. “Remember the night before the battle?” she asked. “Harry said that he thought something was coming, and so you and I went for that walk...?”

Ron nodded. “Of course I do. It was brilliant, Hermione. You were brilliant—”

Hermione flushed. “Well, thank you, but it turns out that you and I weren’t as careful as we thought, and Madam Pomfrey caught me throwing up earlier today...”

Ron blinked. “‘Mione?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, and Ron gasped. “I should give birth next March, that is, if you want me to—”

Ron yanked Hermione towards him then, kissing her deeply. “Merlin, yes,” he whispered, and gave her a grin. “We’ll ask Mum and Dad if we can have a wedding at the Burrow, and we’ll start planning it as soon as Harry wakes up.”

Hermione let out a sigh of contentment and nodded. “I’d love that,” she replied, before she turned to Draco and Ginny, who were grinning at them, and many hearty congratulations were then exchanged between the four friends.

~*~

Harry grimaced where he was floating, and seemed to be lodged permanently somewhere riddled in blackness. He struggled against it, as there was a tearing sensation ripping through him then, as pain threatened to overtake every sense he possessed. When the scent of alcohol hit him, and he knew where he was—and that, first and foremost, he was safe—his eyes snapped open, and he was temporarily blinded by the bright lights around him. But then, he forced them to adjust and pushed himself into a sitting position, although the pain did not improve at all.

“Madam Pomfrey!” he managed to get out, although his voice was scratchy and hoarse from lack of use, and the mediwitch promptly swept into the room.

“Merlin, Potter, you gave us all quite a scare—”

“She’s coming!” he yelled then, not wanting to hear the matron’s feelings on the matter of his momentary drowsiness—that’s all it was, right? “My daughter...”

“Oh, Merlin,” Madam Pomfrey said, yanking the duvet back and nodding. “Ah, yes. The seam to cut along has already made itself known,” she said, and nodded her head down to Harry’s overtly swollen stomach, where a deep red seam seemed to be stretched along it. “Well,” she said, and flicked her wand, summoning a Wiggenweld Potion and handing it over, “you’d best drink this and have it work its magic before I proceed with the cutting—”

Harry yanked the potion out of her hand as the pain continued to course through him, which slightly eased the ache in his throat. “Where’s Severus?” he demanded, once he’d finished drinking it, and his eyes darted around the room.

“An urgent meeting with the headmistress, along with Professors Flitwick and Sprout,” Madam Pomfrey replied patiently, taking the empty potion bottle from him and banishing it somewhere that Harry couldn’t see.

“I need him here—”

“We’d best not bother him, Harry—”

“He is the father of my daughter, and I will have him here!” Harry yelled, narrowing his eyes at the mediwitch, to the point where she visibly drew back.

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” she said formally, and gave a short nod. “Who else would you like to have here?”

“Bugger,” he muttered, wanting this done quickly, and turned away from her. “Dobby!” he called, and, once the crack sounded, found himself with an armful of elf.

“Dobby _knew_ that great Master Harry Potter sir would pull through—!”

“Dobby, this is important,” Harry said, cutting him off, and the house-elf stared at him, eyes wide. “My daughter is coming, and I need Severus and Hermione here. Can you fetch them both for me, please?”

“Dobby can do that!” Dobby crowed, nodding his head, and Harry bit back a laugh at how his ears flapped. “Dobby will get them now!” he said, and vanished with a crack.

Harry leaned back in his bed, never having to like raising his voice with anyone, but he was sick and tired of people automatically assuming that they knew best out of any given situation which involved him. He was through with that, now that he’d risked his life for the Wizarding World so many times over. He turned then as the hospital wing doors opened, and let out a cry of relief as Severus rushed across the threshold, and grabbed up Harry into his arms.

“I am never letting you out of my sight again, brat,” he said, whereupon he repeatedly kissed Harry, and Harry laughed, holding him tightly. “Why was I not called immediately?”

“Because Madam Pomfrey said you couldn’t be bothered,” Harry muttered.

Severus momentarily glared at the mediwitch before turning back to Harry. “Are you feeling all right, my love?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Just an ache, now that I’ve taken some Wiggenweld Potion,” he assured him, as he nestled deeper into his arms.

“I’m afraid that Miss Granger returned home to her parents’ house, and won’t be able to come for a while,” Severus said softly.

Harry smiled. “That’s all right... I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked that she and Ginny be our daughter’s godmothers,” he said softly.

Severus smirked. “I’d figured as much. But no, love, I’ve no problem with it,” he assured him, before climbing behind him in the bed, and holding him against his chest. “All wizarding births are done this way,” he explained, “with the non-bearer holding the bearer against them.”

Harry nodded; he thought he recalled seeing such a thing in the massive tome from the library, so long ago now. “Who did we lose?” he whispered.

“Harry...”

“Please,” Harry begged. “I need to know.”

“Dumbledore, as I’m sure you saw...”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Bellatrix, Avery Jr., Nagini, Rookwood, Dolohov, the Carrows, and Knott from their side of things,” Severus said softly. “As for our side, Horace Slughorn, Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown...”

“Seamus will be devastated,” Harry said, and Severus inhaled sharply then, causing Harry to turn around to face him. “Severus?”

“Seamus was a casualty, I’m afraid,” Severus told him.

Harry’s eyes prickled with tears. “That’s awful,” he whispered, and Severus promptly moved to pull him closer.

“Colin and Dennis Creevey,” Severus continued, and Harry let out a small sigh, “and then, of course, Riddle.”

“How did he...?”

“I was all prepared to slaughter him as soon as he had cursed you, my love, but, it seems, you had the power with you all along,” Severus informed him.

Harry turned slightly and gazed at his lover. “I killed him?”

Severus smiled slightly then and reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled something out, whereupon he unshrank it and passed it over to Harry. “I don’t suppose your doing so well in potions these past two terms had anything to do with this, did it?”

Harry cradled his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ , which he kept hidden in his robes constantly over the past two terms. “Everything to do with it, actually,” he admitted. “Whoever wrote this is bloody amazing, Severus...”

“I know he is,” Severus assured him.

“It’s an older edition,” Harry said softly, running his hands over the cover. “Did you go to school with the bloke?”

Severus chuckled. “I did,” he said. “I am a Half-Blood, Harry, and my mother is Eileen Prince, making me...”

“You’re the Half-Blood Prince?” Harry whispered, turning about to face the man again. “All this time, it’s been you?”

Severus smiled. “Perhaps so,” he replied.

Harry inched closer to the man and pressed a kiss onto his lips. “Merlin, I love you,” he whispered throatily.

Severus promptly wrapped his arms around Harry. “And I you,” he replied.

“So... Wait. How did I end up vanquishing Riddle, then?”

“The Killing Curse rebounded off the book you held and came crashing back into him,” Severus explained in a patient manner.

Harry blinked. “And me?”

“Naturally, the impact and residue of the spell likely clung to you. That, combined with years of training and exhaustion you were put through, finally seemed to catch up to you. Madam Pomfrey suggested the coma to charge your batteries, so to speak, but, when it came time to wake you, you just didn’t come back to us.”

Harry sighed, running his hands over his swollen belly. “Perhaps Lily thought it best to have me get some beauty sleep before she made her debut,” he replied.

Severus blinked. “Lily?”

“Yes,” Harry replied. “Lily Eileen Potter-Snape, if you’ve no objections.”

Severus pulled Harry closer. “None at all.”

“Well, then, boys,” Madam Pomfrey said, breezing into the room a moment later, “the potion should have been acting by now. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thank you,” Harry replied.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and leaned forward, putting gentle pressure onto Harry’s stomach and nodded a second time. “It appears as if your daughter is in position,” she said, and lifted her wand, holding it aloft. “ _Diffindo_ ,” she said then, a red light bursting forth from her wand, and expertly cutting along Harry’s midsection, where the line had formed. “Ah, lovely,” Madam Pomfrey said, summoning a linen from somewhere beyond their sight and leaning down, before pulling at something, until she was holding a squalling infant in her arms. “Congratulations, Harry and Severus; it’s a beautiful baby girl,” she said, and Harry relaxed against Severus as they watched Madam Pomfrey move over to a basin, which had already been set up across the room with warm water and gentle soap, and she proceeded to clean the child.

“She’s here,” Severus whispered, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple.

Harry smiled, about to say something in reply, but felt something jarring from within him then, and he could barely speak. “Sev... Severus?” he whispered, looking at him with worry in his eyes, his voice trembling.

“It will be the placenta, love—”

“No... No,” he said, shaking his head. “Something’s wrong...”

“Poppy?” Severus demanded as the doors to the hospital wing opened, and Hermione came into the room, seeing the expression on Harry and Severus’s faces.

“How can I help?” she asked, rushing forward.

Madam Pomfrey turned around, and had meanwhile cleaned up Lily and wrapped her in a bolt of pink linen. “Take her,” she said.

“Take... Take Lily!” Harry managed to get out, and Hermione darted forward, taking the newborn into her arms and walking over to the window, where the sunlight could stream onto her face and she could coo softly at her.

“Mr. Potter, let us see what’s bothering you, shall we?” the matron said, upon stepping back towards the bed, and stumbled slightly, looking inside.

“What is it?!” Severus demanded, as Harry trembled in his arms.

Madam Pomfrey snapped her fingers, and another bolt of linen came out from the storeroom, and she dove inside, grabbing at something, and, a moment later, there was a second squalling infant in her arms. “Twins,” she whispered.

“What?!” Harry and Severus demanded together.

“Hidden twins are exceptionally rare in the Wizarding World, but a bit more common in the Muggle one,” the mediwitch explained, taking the other child over to the basin, and snapped her fingers again, exchanging the bloodied water for some clean warm water, and dipped the baby into it. “There now,” she whispered consolingly. “It’s a son,” she tossed over her shoulder, and Harry let out a small sigh. “Severus, you may check over Harry,” she said, and Severus got to his feet, sanitizing his hands and rolling up his sleeves, before he too reached in, and pulled out two blob-like objects which visibly disturbed Harry.

“The placentas,” Severus explained. The man then conjured a bowl to place them in, and banished them to the storeroom in the back, before performing a deep Cleaning Charm upon his hands and then to Harry’s insides. “Poppy?” he called.

“Stitch him back up, Severus,” Madam Pomfrey replied.

Severus removed his wand from his robes and said, “ _Reparo_ ,” and Harry felt his stomach suddenly seizing together, and mending itself of its own accord. Severus banished the blood around him then, before casting a non-invasive Cooling Charm, which helped Harry considerably, to the point where he was feeling much better.

Harry gingerly pushed himself upwards in the bed, watching as Madam Pomfrey finished bathing his and Severus’s son, and wrapped him in a blue swaddle. He then witnessed both Hermione and the mediwitch bringing his twins over to him, and Harry promptly opened his arms and gathered them close. “Lily and Albus,” he whispered, as Madam Pomfrey and Hermione disappeared into the matron’s office.

“Albus?” Severus asked.

Harry looked up at his lover. “The name I chose, if the baby was a boy,” he explained, and gave the man a smile. “Albus Severus Potter-Snape.”

Severus casted an Extension Charm onto the hospital bed, and he slid in beside the man he loved, and gently took ahold of his son into his arms, while Harry soothed their daughter. “I think those names are wonderful, love,” he said softly.

Harry put his head onto Severus’s shoulder. “He wasn’t all bad,” he said softly. “I mean, sure, he could have told me what was happening with you...”

“He only wanted what was best for us, love,” Severus told him.

Harry sighed. “No one will take you away from me again.”

Severus smirked. “Well, considering that we now have twins together, I certainly hope not,” the man replied. “Although, your seventeenth birthday isn’t for another week.”

“Don’t care,” Harry replied. “I’ve done enough. I just want you.”

Severus sighed, kissing his son’s head, which boasted a dusting of black hair. “I suppose I should tell you what the meeting with Minerva was about.”

Harry blinked, looking up. “Yes?”

“I told her of our relationship, as well as the fact that we were due to have a child together, and that we were intending upon marrying,” he began.

Harry sighed. “How did she take it?”

“She was shocked, to say the least, but when I assured her of our love for one another, she promptly asked that I return as potions master, Head of Slytherin House, as well as the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, all with Albus’s, Filius’s, and Pomona’s approval,” he said, smirking as baby Albus proceeded to grip at his finger, which he’d given him to play with.

Harry nodded. “Is that something you may want?”

“For now, it is,” Severus admitted. “I informed Minerva that I would take the job and keep it, providing that you and I could live together, with our children, in my rooms, for one year. You will then graduate with your NEWTs, and we’ll re-evaluate what we may want then.”

Harry smiled. “And her reply to that?”

“She said that she wanted us to marry before the summer is out, and I said that that would all depend upon you,” said Severus.

“You know I want to marry you,” Harry said softly, looking down at his daughter, who had a generous amount of red hair upon her head.

“And I want to marry you,” Severus replied.

“So, we’ll marry,” Harry said, “but on our own terms. I’m sure Minerva can be persuaded if we’re just engaged by the summer.”

Severus sighed. “We shall see.”

“Oh, I think everyone owes us plenty, Severus.”

Severus laughed. “You’re acting like quite the Slytherin, aren’t you?”

Harry turned to look at the man he loved. “I don’t believe I ever told you the tale of my sorting, did I?” he asked.

~*~

Harry’s seventeenth birthday at the Burrow had been a one for the books, as he no longer had to hide his relationship with Severus. Everyone was positively glowing at the event; Harry, because he was finally sleeping regularly, with the man he loved, and the family he wanted; Hermione, because she was expecting hers and Ron’s first child; Ginny and Draco, because they were enjoying being an engaged couple, especially after the news that Headmistress McGonagall had permitted them to share Draco’s solo room next term; Remus and Tonks, whose wedding was in a month and they couldn’t be happier; and Sirius and Penelope, because they were finally being open about their relationship.

Living with Severus had been surprisingly easy, and Harry was pleased that the pair of them had reached a compromise about Sirius and Remus visiting. The men had to call beforehand, and Harry and Severus would have to discuss them potentially visiting at length before an executive decision was made on the matter. Harry knew that, despite their love for him, that they wouldn’t be visiting often, due to Remus and Tonks planning their wedding, and Sirius asking Penelope to move into Grimmauld Place with him. Harry smirked at the thought of Sirius and Penelope running into Draco and Ginny, but knew that, since they were all family now, that everyone would find an appropriate time to have a laugh about it.

Hermione, who was pregnant with a girl, and Ron were frequent visitors to the extended suite of rooms that Harry and Severus currently resided in inside the Hogwarts Dungeons. Severus, much to his relief, didn’t seem to mind their visits, as Ron always made Harry laugh, and Hermione was a wonderful person for Severus to have conversations with. So when the second Sunday in August arrived and Ron and Hermione made themselves known, Harry was all too eager to speak to his friends, although Severus whisked him out for a walk on the Hogwarts Grounds.

“But Ron and I were going to Fire-Call Ginny and wish her a ‘Happy Birthday’,” Harry said as they meandered down the corridors, towards the Entrance Hall.

“You can do it later, Harry. Ron and Hermione want some much-deserved time with their godchildren,” Severus said, for Ron and Draco had been proclaimed godfather of Albus, while Luna was his godmother, and Neville Longbottom the godfather of Lily. “Let them have a few moments.”

Harry rolled his eyes as they stepped out into the sunshine. “I still can’t believe you accepted their appointment, or that of Ginny’s, Luna’s, and Neville’s.”

“Neville may not be competent at potions, Harry, but our twins have taken a definite shine to him, and he’s good with babies.”

“And Ginny and Luna?”

“Ginny is due to become a Malfoy in the next couple of years, as you well know, and her Bat-Bogey Hex is legendary,” he continued. “As for Luna, her mother was a potions extraordinaire, and it is most unfortunate that we lost Pandora Everglade-Lovegood so young.”

“Who would have thought it?” Harry chuckled, as they walked by the Whomping Willow and meandered down towards the lake. “Severus Snape has a heart.”

Severus mockingly growled at Harry. “Don’t you forget that, my brat.” They continued down to the edge of the lake, which was sparkling brightly beneath the late summer sunshine, and Severus turned to look at Harry. “I thought we might swim.”

Harry flushed. “I’ve no trunks with me, Severus.”

“That’s all right,” Severus replied. “Hagrid is in France, Pomona is at an herbology convention in Glasgow, Minerva is visiting a nephew of hers in London, Filius is at the annual European Charms Expo in Paris, Sybill is in the tower and cannot see us, and the rest of the professors are doing things either off or on campus that won’t take them out here.”

Harry swallowed. “And Ron and Hermione?”

“Are in the dungeons with our twins,” Severus replied, already taking off his shoes and starting to remove his turtleneck.

Harry sighed, but quickly stripped down to nothing, taking Severus’s lead, and dashed into the lake, giggling as the cool water lapped at his skin. He turned around as Severus drifted into the water after him, and a mewl that Harry was unable to call back escaped from his lips as Severus pressed closer, and gently dragged Harry into his arms. Harry wrapped his legs around the man’s body, letting out a slight gasp at their mutual hardness.

“Severus?” he whispered.

“I won’t pressure you,” Severus said softly.

Harry pressed closer. “I want to,” he whispered. “It’s been too long.”

Severus reached beneath the surface of the water slowly then, and gently teased at Harry’s opening, feeling himself stiffening at Harry’s gasp and arching up against him. He smirked, and slipped a finger inside him, and Harry groaned, putting his forehead against the man’s chest, pulling him closer. Severus wetted his lips then, using his other finger to tilt Harry’s chin up, and pressed a kiss to that beautiful, wanton mouth of his. He was unsure who moaned first, or who moaned last, as he slowly sank another finger inside his lover. Once he had stretched Harry with three fingers, he slowly withdrew, before gently pushing himself inside.

Harry gasped. “Oh, Merlin,” he whimpered, arching against Severus again, and pressing his lips to his, to prevent himself from crying out.

Severus gently nipped at his lips, and Harry broke away, lifting his chin, and thus permitting his lover access to his neck. Severus gently bit down on Harry’s collarbone as he continued pumping into him without mercy, and Harry wailed at the duel sensations of pleasure. “Harry,” came the man’s whisper, “oh, my Harry...”

“Severus... _Fuck_!” Harry cried out then, desire coming at full-force to his groin, as he suddenly spasmed, coming in between them, a little cry escaping his lips as Severus too emptied himself inside of him.

“Merlin, Harry,” Severus groaned, tilting Harry’s chin up with his nose, and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“That was incredible,” Harry groaned, gently letting his legs down as Severus slipped out from him, but not turning him lose.

“Fancy a lie in the sun?” he asked.

Harry giggled. “Anything with you,” he replied.

The sun was peeking out over the trees once they got out of the lake, and Harry was pleased to see fresh clothes and towels waiting for them. There was also a red and white checkered blanket nearby, which had a wicker picnic basket placed upon it. Severus made a grab for the towels and painstakingly dried Harry off before drying himself, but the two men dressed themselves, while all the while casting admiring glances over each other’s bodies as they did so.

“Come,” said Severus, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the blanket. Severus gently pulled Harry down so that he was sitting, and casted a Cleaning Charm on his hands before he opened the basket. Inside, there was a loaf of French bread, several kinds of cheese, fruit, meats from the butcher shop at The Magic Neep, a bottle of champagne, and a treacle tart for the two of them to share.

Harry blushed at many of his favorite foods, plus his favorite pudding, being present. Sitting back and admiring his lover, he watched as the man prepared a plate for him, with a meat and cheese sandwich on the bread loaf—which looked fresh—with some fruit on the side, as the pudding would likely be eaten later. He accepted the plate, along with a flute of champagne, and turned back towards the lake, giggling at the sight of the mermaids lying upon the surface of the water, the giant squid entertaining them.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his drink and biting into his sandwich.

Severus sighed. “You know I love you, right?”

Harry nodded, slowly popping a grape into his mouth, and smirked around the piece of fruit as Severus visibly stiffened. “Of course, Severus. I love you, too.”

Severus lowered his plate onto the blanket and sighed. “I don’t want to suddenly wake up one morning and find you gone...”

Harry lowered his flute of champagne and shook his head. “Severus, where is this coming from?” he asked. “I love you. We have two children together. The war is over, and I am finally of age. I’m not going anywhere.”

Severus sighed. “It’s not enough.”

Harry felt a lump rising in his throat then. “Oh,” he whispered.

“But it is all right,” Severus said quickly, and reached into his pocket, and drew out a ring on a silver band, with several emeralds imbedded into the surface. “I know exactly what I want, Harry, and what I want, is for you to be my husband and bond with me.”

Harry’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “What?” he whispered.

Severus smiled, taking Harry by the hand and sinking down to one knee upon the blanket. “Harry James Potter,” he said, “will you do me the most wonderful honor imaginable, and consent to being my husband and bonded mate for all time?”

“Yes, Severus, yes!” Harry cried out then, suddenly launching himself at the man—careful not to upset their food or the picnic basket—and landed firmly on top of him. “I love you, and I’ll never leave you, and my answer will always be yes to marrying you.”

Severus smiled, gently easing them back upright and slipping the ring onto the third finger of Harry’s left hand. “I love you,” he whispered.

Harry leaned closer then, brushing his lips with Severus’s. “I love you,” he replied.

~*~

**_Epilogue: Fifteen Years Later_ **

It had been one week after Severus proposed to Harry that Remus and Tonks were married on the Hogwarts Grounds. Hermione and Ginny served as Co-Maids of Honor, Penelope, Luna, and Fleur were Bridesmaids, Sirius was Best Man, and Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco served as Groomsmen. Harry was simply relieved that he hadn’t had to hide his relationship with Severus at a wedding of all places, and Lily and Al were the stars of the show, as Flower Girl and the Ring Bearer respectively.

Ron and Hermione married just one day before the first-term of their seventh-year, with Hermione positively glowing on that day. She and Ron were simultaneously studying for their NEWTs, preparing for parenthood with their daughter to be born in six months—whom they’d already decided to name Rose—and working with Draco to establish prominent healthcare for the Wizarding World. Now, they’d already expanded all across Great Britain, plus France and Spain and Scandinavia, and were making their way across the pond to America next. It was just the ticket, in everyone’s eyes, to salvage the Malfoy name in an appropriate manner, in that it would be enough for Ginny’s upcoming marriage to Draco to be seen as socially acceptable to all the rags out there.

Harry and Severus arrived by Floo to their expansive house and property in the countryside of Paris, and moved towards the French doors and opened them, moving to sit out onto the patio which overlooked their impressive courtyard, herb and potion and flower garden, greenhouse, pool, orchard, hammock, and rolling hills. Harry nestled closer to his husband of fifteen years, whom he had married on the first day of his seventh-year.

“What is it, my brat?” Severus asked.

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just waiting for the owl like you are.”

Severus smirked. “Of course,” he responded.

“Lily and Al’s appointment of prefects for Gryffindor and Slytherin earlier this summer was certainly a wonderful thing,” Harry said brightly.

Severus gave a nod. “Yes. I’m quite positive they will do their houses proud.” He hesitated for a moment and shook his head. “Just hope that Lily doesn’t sustain a head injury as Quidditch Captain this year...”

“...or that Al will blow up the lab as President of the Potions Club,” Harry joked, knowing that neither was possible, as Lily was a Quidditch expert, as Al was a potions one.

“I’m just saddened that Hagrid’s relationship with Madam Maxime didn’t work out,” Severus put in, and Harry smirked, knowing that the man would never admit that in person. “Of course, it gives our Ruby someone to look up to as President of the Magical Creatures Club, although I’m convinced that Hagrid only favors her because she’s your daughter...”

“Our daughter, Severus, and don’t forget, it was a shock to us all when she sorted Ravenclaw, as everyone was betting on Gryffindor or Slytherin,” Harry said patiently. “Besides, she’s only just started her third-year. She’s got plenty of time to make a name for herself in her chosen field, and perhaps it’ll be Magizoology like Luna.”

“I’m just worried that Jeremy,” Severus went on, mentioning their youngest son, who was a first-year and all bets were that he’d be a Hufflepuff, “will be lusting about Andromeda...”

“Andromeda Lupin?” Harry asked, laughing at the mention of Remus and Tonks’s youngest child, named after Tonks’s mother, Andromeda, and who was younger sister of their son and oldest child, Teddy. “You know very well, my Severus, that she goes by ‘Andi’, as her dear grandmother goes by ‘Dromeda’. Differentiation is important to children so young, as it gives them a proper identity.”

“ _Andi_ ,” Severus sneered, causing Harry to laugh, “will sort Gryffindor.”

“She certainly could, although Teddy sorted Hufflepuff,” Harry put in.

“I just know that Hermione will put the pressure on Rose to make the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect next year,” Severus said, playfully rolling his eyes. “At least Hugo has a way to go of it yet, and won’t be pressured...”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “Jeannie could get it,” he said softly, referring to Ginny and Draco’s oldest daughter, Luna Jean Malfoy, who went by ‘Jeannie’, and who had sorted Gryffindor three years previously.

“Hmmm,” Severus acknowledged. “I’m just glad we got out of there while we still could, my love. I mean, Hermione and Ron had two; Draco and Ginny had three; Remus and Tonks had two; Luna and Neville had four; Sirius and Penelope had three; Dean and Susan had four; and we had four...”

Harry swallowed. “About that...”

“Yes?” Severus asked.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but let out a laugh then as Galentine in all of her smoky beauty came flying gracefully through the air, a letter tied to her leg. Harry got to his feet and untied the letter, and gently stroked at Galentine’s feathers. “You know where your treats are, girl. Go and rest up,” he said gently, and Galentine hooted before flying off.

Hedwig and Alexander had remained together until Hedwig had passed away just five years after Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Dean, Susan, and everyone else in their year had graduated. Alexander had hung on for another three years before he died, with Hagrid saying that it must have been from a broken heart, but Severus clearly stating that it was from owl flu. It was a delight, however, that Hedwig and Alexander had had one more egg, in addition to Galentine, and that was a boy chick that Draco had named Francis, and kept with him and Ginny in Wiltshire at Malfoy Manor.

“What is it?” Severus asked, getting to his feet as Harry opened the letter.

“It’s from Minerva,” Harry said.

_Dear Harry and Severus,_

_I do hope that you are finding Paris and your much-deserved retirement well. I wanted you to be among one of the first sets of parents to know that I am retiring at the end of term this year, in June, and will officially hand over the reigns to Filius, as my Deputy Headmaster. Pomona will then become Deputy Headmistress, as the next senior staff member, although Sybill is already predicting that there are several things wrong with this. I just think that she’s in a tizzy that she wasn’t chosen to have a position of authority._

_Lily and Al are both settling in especially well in their new roles as fifth-year prefects. I’ve got a feeling that Gryffindor will get the Quidditch Cup this year, now that our Lily is its captain, and that Slytherin House will place first in the Potions Expo, now that Al is at its helm. They are both exceptionally gifted students, and are therefore a credit to both of you._

_Ruby is quite an engaging little thing, and I’m reminded so much of your mother, Severus, in her enthusiasm for learning. Hagrid was just saying the other day how much of a benefit it is to have her so involved in Care of Magical Creatures, that he thinks she could be anything from an animal healer to a Magizoologist. Given that she has such good marks in all her classes, I believe that if she keeps this up, she can do whatever she likes._

_I wanted to also let the two of you know that Jeremy Draconis Potter-Snape, your lovely little boy, has sorted Slytherin this evening. You both should be very proud. He has your eyes, Harry, and something tells me that he, too will do great things._

_Much love,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry smiled fondly then and folded up the letter, knowing that he and Severus would likely have the woman over during her retirement. “I’ll go and start dinner, shall I?” he asked, and moved to walk back into the house.

“Harry, wait,” Severus said, catching ahold of his arm. “What did you want to say before?”

Harry sighed. “Nothing important.”

“I quite doubt that, my brat,” Severus stated, and gently turned him about. “Come on. Tell me, my love. What is it?”

Harry swallowed. “I...”

“What, my love? It cannot be so bad, can it?”

“Is another baby a bad thing?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Severus’s eyes widened. “Another baby?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. It’s a girl...”

Severus nodded. “When you were ill over the summer... Your contraceptive must have failed due to the potion I gave you,” he said quietly.

Harry rolled his shoulders. “Look, if it’s a bad time...”

“Don’t say that, my love,” Severus told him, his tone gentle. “Expanding our family is never a bad time, or a bad thing, I assure you.” He stepped closer then, and gently placed a hand upon Harry’s belly, and felt magic swirling around from within. “A girl, you said?”

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“Perhaps we can call her Ginevra Joanne Potter-Snape. Or ‘Ginny-Jo’, if you so prefer,” said the man with a smile.

Harry felt his eyes wet with tears then. “I love it,” he declared, and wiped his tears away with a shake of his head. “Damn hormones,” he muttered.

Severus grinned. “I like your hormones, my Harry,” he said, and stepped forward completely, and, as he leaned down, whispered, “but I love you.”

Harry let out a contented sigh, before standing on his toes and pressing his lips to Severus’s. “I love you, too,” he whispered back. “Forever,” he said.

“And always,” Severus declared, looking out over their expanse of land.

It had taken the pair of them so long to achieve the freedom that they had both wanted. It had come at a price, with many sacrifices along the way. Their separation, forced by the people in power at the time, was a difficult topic of discussion, so it was hardly ever discussed in their household in the beginning but, now, could be viewed as what kept their love strong all along, and had all been worth it. And, in the end, neither Harry James Potter-Snape, nor Severus Tobias Snape would have changed a thing.

All was well.

THE END


End file.
